


A Question of Loyalties

by Cameo (CameoSF)



Series: Dancing in the Light [4]
Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 00:03:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1837027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CameoSF/pseuds/Cameo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murdoch finds himself in the middle of someone else's case.  Meanwhile, family members crawl out of the woodwork.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Loyalties

The Mountie arrived on a Sunday.

William Murdoch and James Pendrick were in the library at the time, trying to figure out how to fit an additional piece of furniture into the room.  Pendrick had finally purchased a new desk to replace the fire-damaged one he’d been using for the past year.  When the new model was delivered however, he decided he preferred to keep his old favorite, which aside from some surface scorching was still perfectly serviceable.  Rather than return the new desk to its manufacturer, he offered it to Murdoch, who till then had been making do with a reading chair and an end table. 

Murdoch suspected this whole business was Pendrick’s way of providing his lover with a proper work area.  Since Murdoch insisted Pendrick not buy him expensive items he didn’t need, Pendrick had become creative in his gifting.  The desk was quite nice and Murdoch was happy to accept it, but they’d realized immediately that the room was simply not large enough to accommodate two desks comfortably, at least not without removing either the books or Pendrick’s contraption.

“We could turn the music room into a library,” Pendrick suggested, eyeing the multiple cases holding nearly a thousand volumes. “Although I’d rather we hire someone else to do the labor.”

Murdoch shook his head. “The books are the reason I enjoy working in this room,” he said, and added diplomatically, “aside from your company, of course.”

Pendrick smiled thinly. “Then we’ll just have to relocate my contraption.”

“Where?  More to the point, how?”

They both turned to study the large mass of steel rails and chutes.  The thing now weighed well over a hundred pounds and sat on two sturdy tables.  The contraption could conceivably be set aside while the tables were carried to its new site, but there was no question that the thing itself was not going to fit through the library doorway.

Pendrick’s smile grew as he recognized their predicament. “Then we’ll need to -” He was interrupted by a knock at the front door. “Hold that thought.”

He went to answer the door while Murdoch contemplated their limited space.  He very much wanted to be able to work in the same room as his partner, but it didn’t seem possible.

“Good afternoon, Sir.  I’m looking for Detective William Murdoch,” he heard someone say from the foyer. “The constable at station number four directed me here.”

“Come in.” Pendrick raised his voice. “William?  You have a visitor.”

Murdoch was already on his way.  He halted at first sight of his half-brother, then went forward to clasp his hand warmly.  The other broke into a big grin.

“It’s good to see you,” Murdoch told him, returning it. “Jasper, I’d like you to meet my friend, James Pendrick.  James, this is Sargeant Jasper Linney.”

“The Mountie?” Pendrick murmured, raising an eyebrow while shaking his hand.  He looked the taller man up and down.  The Mountie wasn’t in uniform, but there was something indisputably wholesome about him nevertheless.  He carried a small valise. “Welcome to Toronto, Mr. Linney.”

“Very pleased to meet you.”

“Come in.  Let’s sit down and be comfortable while we catch up.  What brings you here?” Murdoch asked, leading him towards the dining room.

Linney seemed puzzled but set down his case and followed willingly.   He didn’t speak till they’d taken seats at the table.  Pendrick brought in a carafe of lemonade and smirked when the Mountie accepted a glass as if it were the natural thing to drink when visiting.

“I apologize for turning up on your doorstep unannounced,” Linney declared. “I did write you that I was coming, but the letter seems to have gone astray.  When I went by your boarding house, I was told that you hadn’t lived there in over a year, so I sought you at the police station.  They suggested I look here.”

“I don’t usually work on Sunday,” Murdoch agreed. “Are your wife and son with you?”

“No, I’m traveling alone.” Linney glanced at Pendrick, who was standing nearby as if debating whether to stay. “I’ve come to pick up some of Harry’s belongings.  He left a trunk at a depot on Macaffee Street.  Since he doesn’t expect to return to Toronto, he asked me to come fetch it.”

Murdoch was neither surprised nor upset at the news that Harry would not be returning.  Despite efforts on both their parts, spending time with his father always reminded him of everything that was unpleasant in his childhood. “He’s found a place then with you and your family in Vancouver?”

“Yes.  He and Corrinne get along well, and he seems fond of Casper.”

Murdoch tried to draw Pendrick into the conversation. “Casper is their son.  He’s about six months old now, isn’t he?”

Linney nodded. “And quite the handful.  I hope you have an opportunity to meet them both.”

Pendrick spoke up. “I imagine you two have a lot to talk about, and I have some work to do.  Please excuse me.”

“Of course.” Murdoch tried to read his mind, but the other was being inscrutable.  He watched Pendrick leave, then turned back to Linney, eager to hear more about the only blood family he was likely to have.

They talked for hours, more easily than Murdoch expected.  He got to hear about Linney’s home in British Columbia, his duties with the North-West Mounted Police, and all about his wife and child, who were clearly the most important part of his life.  Murdoch tried to reciprocate by telling him about his work and his experiments, but there was a huge gap where his romantic life was meant to be.   After a while it became too obvious to ignore.

“Do you still see the lovely Dr. Ogden?” Linney asked.

“Yes, we’re still good friends,” Murdoch said, and told him a little about her adventures since they’d last met. “If you’ll come by the station tomorrow, I’ll take you to say hello.” He quickly sought another topic. “How long will you be in Toronto?”

“I’m not sure.  The depot holding Harry’s trunk was closed today, but I intend to go back in the morning.”

“Where are you staying?”

“I haven’t made arrangements yet.  I was hoping you could recommend a place.”

Murdoch hesitated.  Having seen the house, the Mountie had to know there were plenty of rooms, but being modest, he wouldn’t assume he was welcome.  The problem was that Murdoch wasn’t sure either, and not just because it meant they’d lose their privacy.

“I’ve been rooming here, but it’s James’ house.  Let me ask him if he’d mind having another guest for a few days,” he said, rising.

“I don’t want to impose.”

“It’s not that.  We just don’t have many rooms open, nor any full-time servants.  Excuse me.”

Murdoch found Pendrick back in the library studying some papers rolled out on his old desk.  He greeted Murdoch with a smile, then proved himself adept once again at reading Murdoch’s expression. “How long would he stay?”

“A few days, at a guess.”

“You’d like that?”

“Yes, I’d like to talk with him some more.” Murdoch went closer, automatically lowering his voice. “We’ll have to be discreet while he’s here.  Do you mind?”

“Not at all, since we’ll put him in a back bedroom as far from ours as possible.”

“Thank you.”

Murdoch returned to the dining room with the good news, and together he and Linney located a habitable room and enough clean linen to outfit it.  The room overlooked the back lawn, which in twilight appeared a bit bleak.  The field of overgrown grass had been mown, but nothing further had been done.

“James is planning to construct a workshop out there,” Murdoch told his brother.  He’d already mentioned that Pendrick shared his passion for science. “Some of his projects require space, and rather than send them elsewhere for testing, he’s going to build a place here.  We might even lease it to other inventors.”

“That’s a great deal of open land,” Linney remarked. “It makes me wish my horse were here.”

“We don’t keep a stable, but I’m sure you could hire a horse in town.”

“Do you and Mr. Pendrick ride?”

“I do.  I’m not sure about James.”

Later, when the Mountie had retired and Murdoch was preparing to do the same with his partner, he re-addressed the question.

“Do you ride horses?” he inquired.  Pendrick had stretched out on their bed and pulled the covers back for Murdoch to join him.

“Not as a rule,” he said. “If you mean, _can_ I ride a horse, yes.  Why do you ask?”

“No reason.  I’m just surprised sometimes by how much I don’t know about you.”

“Really?  It seems to me you know all the pertinent things.  Certainly many things no one else on earth knows.” He pulled Murdoch into his arms and bit his earlobe before whispering, “Such as where to touch me to make me climax within twenty seconds.”

Murdoch imagined that if he hadn’t stopped blushing at comments like that by now, he never would.  It didn’t really bother him anymore, especially because Pendrick’s claim was true.  Just to be obliging, he proved it.

*****

Next morning Linney accompanied Murdoch to the station, where he was met with polite curiosity.  Murdoch had never admitted their familial relationship to his colleagues, and now didn’t seem to be the appropriate time.  Since Linney wasn’t in uniform, he was treated as any other visitor to the station, and business went on around him.

“Detective Murdoch,” Constable Crabtree said once they’d been reintroduced, “that reminds me.  A letter has come for you from British Columbia.” He held out an envelope that looked much the worse for its travels.  Murdoch accepted it with a sigh.

“Your letter, I presume,” he said to Linney, who nodded. “George, if the inspector asks, we’ve gone to visit Dr. Ogden.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Julia was delighted to see Linney, and with her it seemed entirely natural that Murdoch reveal him as his half-brother.  Explaining that took the better part of the next hour, so eventually Murdoch left them to get re-acquainted and returned to his office.  He had several reports to write up and evidence from an old case to examine.  When he presently got around to reading Linney’s letter, it didn’t tell him anything he didn’t now know.

Linney didn’t come back to the station, so at the end of the day, Murdoch went home alone.  He found Pendrick in the ballroom sorting through their now impressive collection of recordings.  He looked up with a grin, but didn’t explain why. “Is the Mountie with you?”

“No…”

“Good.” Pendrick put one of the records on the Victrola and turned it on.  To Murdoch’s confusion, it wasn’t a waltz. “Would you care to tango?”

“ _Tango_?”

Pendrick took Murdoch in his arms and spun him once, then dipped him.  Murdoch cooperated, but he had to laugh at his own ineptitude. “I think waltzing is more my speed.”

“Nonsense.  If you can do one, you can do the other.”

They attempted a few more moves, but by the time the recording ended, even Pendrick had to admit that this would take some practice.  He put a waltz on instead, and they instantly fit together in a smooth glide around the room.

“I didn’t know you could tango,” Murdoch stated.  He’d never actually seen the dance performed before, just read about it.  Pendrick slowed their pace in order to listen. “I didn’t even know you owned any recordings.”

“As much as it galls me to say so,” Pendrick replied, “Sally danced an excellent tango.  We discovered it while on our honeymoon in South America, and she insisted we learn the steps.  When done well, it is very sensual.”

“I find waltzing rather sensual, when we do it.” They were barely moving now, which backed up Murdoch’s words.  He pressed his lips to his lover’s cheek. “You can hardly kiss while doing a tango.”

Pendrick started to turn his head to return the kiss, then froze, making Murdoch stiffen automatically. “My dear, we have a problem,” the former breathed. “Didn’t we agree we were going to be discreet?”

He shifted them so that Murdoch could see Linney leave the doorway of the ballroom, where he’d evidently witnessed enough to send him fleeing.

Murdoch felt his heart sink. “You said he wasn’t home.”

Pendrick frowned. “No, I asked if he was with you.  I knew he was here.  I thought he was in his room.”

“I’d better talk to him.”

When he didn’t move, Pendrick gave him a nudge. “Sooner is better than later.  Do you have any idea how he feels  about the subject?”

“No, but he’s a policeman.”

“Shall I come with you?  We could attempt to convince him he misinterpreted what he saw.”

Murdoch finally shook his head. “No, but thank you.”

He went upstairs, assuming his brother would have retreated to his room, and he was right.  Linney was inside; through the open door, Murdoch could see him holding his valise as if debating what to do with it.

“Jasper?” Murdoch said. “May I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” Linney sank down on the bed. “I apologize for intruding on you and Mr. Pendrick.  I heard music and was curious as to its source.”

Murdoch sat down on a straight chair by a large steamer trunk that hadn’t been there before, Harry’s presumably.  Gauging by the other’s tone, he wasn’t about to be turned over to the constabulary. “I apologize for embarrassing you.  We didn’t expect you to come down.”

Linney indicated his luggage. “I was going to offer to stay somewhere else.”

“That’s not necessary, unless you’re not comfortable staying here.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable.  Are you and Mr. Pendrick still comfortable having a guest?”

Murdoch was frankly bewildered. “Yes, but… what did you see downstairs?”

Now Linney looked confused. “You and Mr. Pendrick dancing and then embracing.  What did you think I saw?”

“Just that.”

The Mountie suddenly got it. “Ah, you’re wondering why I’m not outraged or disgusted.  That’s not my way.” He visibly relaxed. “I was raised to live and let live.  My mother was a somewhat unconventional woman, and we moved around a great deal.  She had friends of all persuasions, so I knew about such things when I was a child.  I never saw anything wrong with it.”

“But it’s against the law and you’re a lawman,” Murdoch protested.

“I’m a Mountie.  In the territories we encounter many types of wrong, and homosexuality isn’t anywhere near the top of the list.” Linney kicked his valise back under the bed. “I was starting to wonder if you and Mr. Pendrick were a couple when you didn’t mention any other romantic interests.  When Dr. Ogden spoke as if you were taken, I came to the logical conclusion.”

Murdoch was at a loss for words.  He knew nothing about the man’s mother Lucinda other than that Harry claimed it was her choice not to get married when she’d become pregnant.  He’d taken that with a grain of salt, but apparently the woman really was a free spirit who accepted people as they came.  That had worked in Harry’s favor, and now it was working in Murdoch’s as well.

“Very few people know about us,” he said seriously. “I’m glad you know, because I hated having to hide something so important to me.  May we count on you to keep our secret?”

Linney smiled widely, apparently pleased to be rewarded with Murdoch’s trust. “You have my word.”

When Murdoch rejoined Pendrick in the ballroom later, he was still a bit flummoxed.  He wished he could believe that more people would react as open-mindedly if they were to find out.

“Well?” Pendrick said tightly when Murdoch appeared. “Is the Mountie going to try to have us arrested?”

Murdoch shook his head. “No, he doesn’t care at all that we’re together.  In fact, he’d already begun to suspect as much.”

Pendrick came as close to gaping as Murdoch had ever seen.  After a moment, he said in a very different tone, “You have the most astonishing friends, William.  He’s staying then?”

“Yes, another day or two.  He’s said he would enjoy seeing more of the city.  Do you by chance have time to show  him around tomorrow?” Murdoch knew very well that acting as tour guide was one of his partner’s least favorite things.  He also knew that there would never be a better time to ask.  The twisted smile Pendrick gave him told Murdoch that his plot was crystal clear.

“All right.  I’ll take him around tomorrow and try to get to know him better,” Pendrick conceded. “It might turn out to be an interesting day.”

Murdoch wasn’t really sure what he meant by that.

*****

Next afternoon at the station he got yet another surprise.  Their housemaid Fiona was a petite young woman, Italian by descent and timid by nature, or so he’d always assumed.  She’d never talked to Murdoch without being spoken to first, and since he was seldom at home while she was there, he tended not to give her much thought.  He was startled therefore when Crabtree escorted her back to his office shortly after lunch.

“A lady to see you, Sir,” the constable said gallantly.  He had met Fiona during an investigation, and was clearly taken with her.

“Thank you, George,” Murdoch said.  He raised his eyebrows when Crabtree closed the door behind him.  Fiona hadn’t even taken the time to change out of her work clothes. “Has something happened at the house?”

“No, Detective Murdoch.  I asked to speak to you in private about something else.” Fiona had no particular accent, and her natural voice was loud and flat. “I need your help with an urgent matter.”

“A police matter?”

“Yes.” She met his eyes, apparently determined not to be servile during this meeting. “A friend of mine, a gentleman, has been wrongfully arrested.  I need you to prove he’s innocent.”

“Is he being held at station four?”

“No, but you’re the only policeman I know.”

After a moment Murdoch opened his notebook and nodded. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

The gentleman in question was an elderly judge named Donaldson whom Fiona had known since birth.  Her mother had immigrated to Canada many years before, found a position as maid in the judge’s household, and only then discovered she was with child.  Donaldson, a barrister at the time, hadn’t raised a fuss, simply providing mother and daughter with any extra care they needed and letting them get on with it.  As he’d risen in the world, so had Fiona’s mother, eventually becoming his trusted housekeeper.  When the mother had passed away several years earlier, the judge had paid for her funeral and assisted Fiona in finding her own position in the Pendrick household.  He’d retained only minimal staff for his own needs.

The week before Fiona’s visit to Murdoch’s station, Donaldson had been arrested for bribery.  He was taken to Station No. 8, and before his attorney could have him released on bail, a second charge was brought against him.  His attorney had resigned on the spot.

“Mr. Donaldson is innocent of bribery,” Fiona insisted, her dark curls bouncing with her vehemence. “I’m certain he’s being framed.  It’s just that when the police searched his house for evidence, they found some letters that have nothing to do with the crime he was accused of.”

Murdoch was curious, although he didn’t see what he could do.  The lads at Station No. 8 were perfectly competent. “What was in the letters?”

“They were from Mr. Donaldson’s gentleman friend.” She cocked her head and emphasized, “ _His_ _friend_.  Like you and Mr. Pendrick are _friends_.”  When Murdoch only blinked, she went on. “He used to live there too, but he’s dead now; he died the year before my mother passed.  Mr. Donaldson kept his letters and they must be pretty explicit, because the police have accused him of indecent behavior.  That attorney of his wouldn’t even try to have the letters dismissed.  He didn’t want to be associated with a man like that.”

Reflecting that he and Pendrick needed to learn the meaning of the word ‘discreet’, Murdoch made himself focus on the issue at hand.

“There’s nothing I can do about the charge of indecent behavior,” he began.

“I know that.  I just came to you because you aren’t likely to shun him the way that dog of an attorney did.” Fiona sounded a bit like a furious toy poodle herself. “It’s the bribery charge I’m worried about.  Mr. Donaldson would _never_ accept a bribe.  He’s as honest as the day is long, I’d swear to that.”

“Do you know what evidence they have against him?”

“They found a bank ledger showing the receipt of some large sums of money that came from someone named Malone.  Do you know who I mean?  He’s a criminal, according to the police.”

Murdoch knew the name although he’d never worked on an investigation involving the man. “He’s an organized crime boss.  The police haven’t been able to convict him, although we’ve been trying for years.” He didn’t like the sound of this. “Is there anything else?”

Fiona shrugged. “I don’t know.  Can you find out?”

“I can talk to the constables at station eight, but I’ll have to handle this delicately -”

“I know, you don’t want them to suspect anything.”

“-because they won’t appreciate someone from another station interfering in their case,” Murdoch finished.  He was getting over his initial alarm and wasn’t really sure whether he liked this young woman outside of the house; he definitely didn’t like her knowing about him and Pendrick, but she’d kept their secret till now, and she hadn’t insinuated that she’d expose them if he didn’t help her friend, which she easily could have done. “I’ll see what I can find out this afternoon and update you tomorrow morning.”

“Can you find an attorney who’ll bail Mr. Donaldson out of jail?  He doesn’t deserve to be there.”

Actually, Murdoch thought he knew just the man. “I’ll see what I can do.”

After sending a note to an attorney he knew named Haddock, Murdoch rode his bike over to Station No. 8.  He wasn’t personally acquainted with any of the constables who worked there, but he’d always heard good things about them, and at least they weren’t actively hostile toward Station No. 4 as some others were.  When he asked to speak to their prisoner, the constable in charge didn’t give him a hard time, but Murdoch knew he wouldn’t have long with Donaldson before they were joined by the arresting officer.

The judge was sitting quietly in a cell similar to one Murdoch had once spent some time in.  He appeared to be in his seventies, his face lined but his head of grey hair still full.  He looked up without interest when Murdoch was shown in, then did a double take.

“I recognize you from the newspapers,” he said, his voice a bit gravelly with age. “Detective Murdoch, isn’t it?”

“Yes.  Sir, do you know a Fiona Moretti?”

“She and her mother used to work for me.” The judge sat up straighter. “What has Fiona done?”

“She’s convinced me to look into the evidence against you.”

“Which evidence?”

Murdoch didn’t blame the man for being cagey. “The bank ledger and anything else that implicates you in accepting bribes.  Do you know what they have?”

Donaldson evidently decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Besides the ledger they claim to have deposit slips, signed by me, for every transaction.  I have never accepted a bribe, Detective Murdoch, not from Rory Malone nor anyone else.  I know nothing about the bank account they say I opened, and I have never made a deposit into it.  I’m being framed.”

“Do you have any idea who might do this to you?”

“I’ve made enemies,” the older man admitted. “Many, over the years.  Malone is one of them, but for the life of me, I can’t see how this would benefit him.  It’s not as if he’d be given back his so-called bribe money if I were convicted.”

“No, that doesn’t make sense,” Murdoch agreed.  “Who _would_ benefit from your conviction?”

“No one, directly.  I was planning to retire in four months anyway.”

Before Murdoch could ask his next question, the door to the cell area opened and the station detective walked in.  He flashed his badge much the way Murdoch usually did, but there any resemblance ended; instead of Murdoch’s dark gaze, the most prominent feature of this policeman was his luxuriant mustache and beard.  The rest of his face faded behind them.

“The name’s Conroy,” he stated. “This is my case.  May I ask what you want with my suspect?”

Murdoch shook his hand, hoping to keep this meeting on a professional footing. “Detective Murdoch of station four.  I’ve been asked by a mutual friend to offer my assistance in clearing his name.”

Conroy may have smiled behind his foliage, but Murdoch didn’t think so. “What sort of friend?”

“I’ve known Miss Moretti and her family for years,” Donaldson threw in, and Murdoch realized what the other detective had assumed.

“Perhaps we can discuss the particulars of the case in your office?” he suggested.

“Follow me.”

The man turned to leave immediately but Murdoch wasn’t quite finished with the judge.  He lowered his voice and spoke quickly.

“An attorney named Haddock should be on his way here,” he said.  Donaldson perked up a little at that. “He’s sympathetic to men in your position and has handled many similar cases.  If he can arrange your release, I’ll visit you tomorrow at your home.”

“Thank you, Detective Murdoch.” Donaldson reached through the bars to clasp his hand. “I promise you, you’re not making a mistake.”

Murdoch was inclined to believe that.  He considered himself a good judge of character, and nothing he’d seen in this man led him to believe him guilty of corruption.

Conroy’s office was a shambles.  Whereas Murdoch’s work area was cluttered with books and instruments for detecting, the hirsute detective’s space was littered with empty coffee cups and full ashtrays that sat haphazardly on piles of papers and reports.  More than one had spilled over.  The smell in the small office caused Murdoch to pause in the doorway.

“I can see you’re a very busy man -” he began.

Conroy raised a bushy eyebrow at his squeamishness, but opened a window. “Better?”

“Yes, thank you.” Murdoch sat down opposite the desk, careful not to touch anything other than the chair. “After meeting Mr. Donaldson, I’m inclined to believe his claim that he’s being framed.  Are you looking into that possibility?”

“We would have if he’d been able to name someone who’d have reason to frame him,” Conroy said readily. “The evidence we have against him is pretty strong.  His signature is on over twenty deposit slips going back almost two years.  He’s been accepting one hundred dollars each month from Rory Malone.”

“He says he didn’t know anything about that account.”

“The paperwork says otherwise.  We can’t verify that it was Donaldson who opened the account because the bank manager who authorized it died of a heart attack last year, but according to the tellers who handle it now, each deposit arrives on the first of the month like clockwork, in an envelope showing Donaldson’s return address and with a deposit slip signed by him.”

“He sends a hundred dollars in cash through the post?”

Conroy’s mustache twitched. “Not cash, cheques made out to him from a company that we happen to know is a front for one of Malone’s operations.  That’s how we figured out where the money was coming from.”

“How did this account come to your attention?” Murdoch asked.

“An anonymous tip, but you know as well as I that anonymous tips can be legitimate.”

“And no one at the bank has ever seen Mr. Donaldson make a deposit?  Have there been any withdrawals over the past two years?”

“No.  We suspect he was saving it up for his retirement.  Donaldson was scheduled to step down in a few months.” Conroy pushed aside some of the detritus on his desk in order to pull out his notes. “The tip said that we’d find a ledger in Donaldson’s study itemizing the money received from Malone, and we did.  Each entry date matches one of the deposits.”

“Are the entries in Donaldson’s handwriting?”

“Printing, actually.  Block letters.  But the ledger was in his desk at his house.”

It looked like Murdoch was going to have to seek clues in a different direction. “Has Mr. Donaldson ever had Malone in his courtroom?”

“Several times, although not recently.  Malone is scheduled to appear next month on an arson charge.  He’s been out on bail for a couple of weeks awaiting his latest trial.  We think the charge was going to stick this time, and he’s been paving the way for a mistrial just in case.”

“Paving the way for almost two years?”

Conroy shrugged. “Keep this under your hat, Detective, but we’re investigating other high-ranking judges to see if Malone might be paying them off too.  He’s the type to hedge his bets.”

Murdoch was running out of questions.  He suddenly wondered whether he’d even be pursuing this if the judge weren’t a kindred soul.

“The other matter,” he began, “was it mentioned in the anonymous tip?”

“No.  That caught us all by surprise.”

“Are you charging him?”

“Of course.”

“My understanding is that the letters are several years old.”

“There’s no statute of limitations on deviancy,” Conroy pointed out.  His eyes narrowed. “This Miss Moretti must be a pretty good friend for you to stick your neck out on behalf of a pervert.”

“My only concern is seeing justice done.” That sounded a bit prim even to Murdoch. “Could I examine the evidence?  The ledger and deposit slips, not the letters.”

“Not without a better reason than you’ve given me so far.” The other detective stood up and ushered Murdoch to the door. “I’ll let you know if any new evidence turns up, but it seems to me you’ve taken on a lost cause.  Donaldson is a bad apple, any way you slice it.”

*****

Since he had no active cases, Murdoch opted not to return to Station No. 4.  Instead he swung by the morgue on the chance Julia might have some ideas regarding the judge’s situation.

He knew she had resumed walking out with one of her old suitors, another doctor, although Murdoch wasn’t sure how serious it was.  He found he was reluctant to discuss romantic entanglements with her for fear he’d see regret in her eyes, or worse yet, a hint of the love they’d once shared.  He would rather cut out his own tongue than ever deliberately hurt her.

Today that was not a worry: Julia was pleased to see him and eager to ask questions about Linney, apparently thrilled that he now had a half-brother.

“How marvelous that you found each other,” she exclaimed after their initial greeting. “You have so much in common.  Will you be visiting him and his family in Vancouver?”

“Maybe someday.”

“I know he would really like that.  Your father would probably like to see you again too.”

Murdoch couldn’t commit one way or the other till he’d spoken to Pendrick, so he moved on to his main purpose in stopping by.  Julia listened attentively to the facts of the bribery case, but without an opportunity to study the physical evidence, or a body to examine, she couldn’t offer any insights.

“You said Detective Conroy is investigating other judges,” she finally remarked. “Have they determined who will preside over Malone’s trial in Mr. Donaldson’s stead?  Perhaps he is also the victim of a frame-up.  I’ve heard Malone is a devious man; he could be targeting any judges who might rule against him.”

“The courts would just find a judge who is above reproach, perhaps someone from outside Toronto.”

“But doing so would take time.  The intention might be to delay the trial.”

“That’s a possibility,” Murdoch agreed. “I’ll let you know if it leads anywhere.”

He left her smiling again because she’d been able to help.

Back at the house, Murdoch found his partner and their guest seated on the terrace, chatting, sipping cold tea and enjoying the evening air.  His arrival interrupted their camaraderie, but they welcomed him with matching smiles.

“William,” Pendrick said, “join us.  Tell us about the crimes you solved today.”

“I’m afraid that would be a short conversation,” Murdoch said truthfully.  He leaned against the balustrade since both chairs were taken. “It appears you had a good day however.  Jasper, did you get to see everything you wanted to in the city?”

“Yes, James is a very knowledgeable guide,” Linney said.  He might have meant to say more, but after   meeting Murdoch’s eyes for a moment, he stood up. “I believe I’ll wash up for dinner.  If you’ll excuse me?”

“Of course.”

Pendrick watched him go, then turned back to Murdoch with a perplexed look. “Why did he think we needed privacy?”

Murdoch claimed the seat beside him. “Because I had a bit of shock today.”

He described Fiona’s visit and her astounding revelation.  He skimmed over the part of the story involving the judge, waiting for Pendrick to react to the shocking part.  The latter simply raised his glass to his mouth and finished off the last of his tea, not meeting Murdoch’s eyes.

Murdoch had to reach the only possible conclusion.

“You knew!  You knew that she knew!” he accused.

“My dear, how could you _not_ know that they know?” Pendrick replied in exasperation.  He tried not to smile at Murdoch’s dismay. “I’m fairly certain both Fiona and Mary have known for months.  They haven’t said anything to me, and I don’t expect them to, but they’re hardly stupid.  Fiona cleans our rooms and does our laundry, and we don’t exactly cover our tracks.”

Murdoch felt the heat rise in his face.  He knew Pendrick mussed up the second bed every morning in time for Fiona to remake it, but other than that they hadn’t really been trying.  Thinking it over, Murdoch realized he’d assumed that a woman would look for any other explanation than the one that was true.  He’d counted on a certain feminine delicacy of mind that apparently did not apply in this house.

“They haven’t left your employment,” he observed at last. “I can understand why Fiona might not condemn us, since she accepts Mr. Donaldson as he is.  Why would Mary stay?”

“Mary has been with me for over a decade.  She saw the wringer Sally put me through, and my guess is that she finds you preferable.” Pendrick picked up his hand and kissed it. “She’s always had sound judgment.”

“The gardener?”

“I’ve no reason to think he suspects.”

“I’m suddenly feeling very exposed.” Murdoch gripped his lover’s hand tightly.  He could see where Pendrick might find his naiveté amusing, but the discovery that their safe cocoon of secrecy didn’t exist made him nervous.  He mentally counted the number of people who held their future in their hands, and knew he had gone from flushed to ashen in seconds. “James, we’re pushing our luck.”

“That may be,” Pendrick conceded, watching him carefully. “I do have a contingency plan, of sorts.” Murdoch waited blankly. “The Ministry of Militia and Defense paid me a respectable sum for my oscillator.  Not as much as I would have gotten elsewhere, but enough for us to start a new life if it ever becomes necessary.  It’s stashed in a bank in Montreal and will remain there unless and until we need to leave Toronto in a hurry.” When no words came out of Murdoch’s open mouth, Pendrick leaned in and kissed it. “We could go somewhere that we’re not known, change our names if we have to.”

Murdoch had to swallow a few times before he could speak. “Your patents…”

“I could let them go.  I would rather live in obscurity, my love, than give you up.”

Pendrick’s hazel eyes were clear and so filled with tenderness that Murdoch ran out of words again.  He kissed his partner, then simply pulled him into his arms and held him to his heart while the sun slowly went down and the air gradually grew cooler.  Uncomfortable as their position was, he had no interest in moving.

It was Pendrick who finally broke their embrace by whispering, “Our guest is far too polite to interrupt us, but he must be getting hungry.”

Murdoch reluctantly agreed.  He sat back and smiled ruefully. “We’ll have an early night?”

“Absolutely.”

Linney wasn’t downstairs, but he appeared as soon as dinner was placed on the table so Murdoch had no doubts the man knew why it’d been delayed.  As they ate, Murdoch decided that discretion in some instances wasn’t needed.

“I did come across an interesting case today,” he stated, and related the details of Judge Donaldson’s alleged crimes.  Linney asked the same questions Murdoch had; he had no new suggestions to offer although he concurred that the frame-up, if that’s what if was, must hinge on Malone’s trial.

“I’m sure I could help with your investigation,” he said, “but I’ve no jurisdiction here.”

Pendrick’s thoughts had veered another direction. “William, you can’t get openly involved in this, not once Donaldson’s persuasion becomes known.”

“I don’t see that I have a choice if Donaldson is going to be convicted of a crime he didn’t commit.”

“I don’t mean to sound harsh, but does it matter?  The judge is going to prison for indecency whether or not he’s guilty of anything else.” Pendrick sighed at the look he received. “Yes, all right.  It matters.”

“Whoever is framing him has to be stopped,” Linney added.

“I’ll be careful,” Murdoch promised.

Later in bed he didn’t want to talk about the judge anymore.  Sometimes letting the facts of an investigation simmer in his head overnight brought new ideas for leads come morning.  In any case, he had other things to discuss once he and Pendrick were settled in each other arms under the covers.

“You and Jasper seem to have become friends,” Murdoch said. “I’m glad.”

“He’s an easy fellow to like.  In fact, in many ways he reminds me of you, although I can’t fathom how that came about.”

“Would you consider taking a trip to Vancouver?”

Pendrick nodded against his shoulder. “If we can stay in a hotel.”

“Who are you hoping to avoid, my nephew or my father?”

“Your nephew.” Pendrick raised his head. “Why would I want to avoid your father?” Murdoch didn’t respond, trying to recall what he’d told his partner about his parents. “I assume he’s still a drunkard, but if Jasper allows him to live with them, he must have his drinking under control.”

Murdoch sighed. “You know he abandoned me and my sister after our mother died.” Pendrick made a soft sound of agreement, since the room was too dark to see his face. “For most of my life I believed he was responsible for my mother’s death.”

“I’m sorry...  You don’t believe it anymore?”

“I’m not sure what I believe now.  Harry told me his version of what happened, but he was drunk at the time, so his memories could be distorted.  He also has a long history of not accepting responsibility for his actions.  It’s possible he didn’t kill her with his own hands, but I’m sure he contributed to her death.” Murdoch tried not to sound too bitter. “If she hadn’t died, my sister wouldn’t have gone to a cloistered convent.”

“And you wouldn’t have gone to the Jesuit Brothers,” Pendrick pointed out.  “You wouldn’t have received an education enabling you to become a police detective.”

“I know all that.  It doesn’t mean I’ve completely forgiven Harry.”

“Perhaps in time.”

They were quiet for a while.  Murdoch was nearly asleep when Pendrick started talking, and it took him a minute to understand why.

“My family was wealthy,” Pendrick said softly. “Old money, but my father believed one should earn one’s way, so I had to work for everything I got.  Fortunately school was easy for me.  I went to university and then accepted an engineering apprenticeship in New York.  It was while I was there that he and my mother were killed when the train they were on derailed outside Toronto.  I had no siblings, so the estate became mine by default.”

Murdoch spoke up when the other paused. “I knew your family had been wealthy for several generations, but I wasn’t able to uncover much else when I was investigating you.”

“No, I made sure of that.  You said the other day that there are things about me you don’t know.  Believe me, my dear, there are things about me no one on earth knows.”

“Why?  I couldn’t have used information about your family against you even if you’d been guilty.”

“Because everything I am, everything I’ve accomplished, is due to who I am.  Who I’ve become.  My father made sure I succeeded without any help from him or the family name, so all of that is irrelevant to me.  Whatever is known about me is what I choose to make known.”

Murdoch reflected that he wasn’t the only one harboring some bitterness, but he didn’t say so aloud. “I don’t really care about your family, just about you.  It’s you I want to know in every way.”

In reply, Pendrick kissed him, a quick touch of his lips in the dark.  The subject was closed, at least for the night.

*****

Next morning Fiona was waiting for Murdoch in the dining room when he went downstairs for breakfast.  Between her early arrival and the scowl on her face, he knew at once that all was not well.

“Mr. Donaldson is still in jail,” she informed him. “Your lawyer couldn’t get him released.  They said the judge is a flight risk.”

“He is,” Murdoch replied, eyeing the table wistfully.  Normally he looked forward to Mary’s breakfasts, but today he thought it prudent to leave the house as quickly as possible. “There is no doubt that he’s going to prison for one charge or the other, so anyone in his position would be considered a flight risk.  I was hoping Mr. Haddock could negotiate some sort of deal on his behalf.”

“Did you see the evidence?”

“No, I’m afraid not.  The detective in charge -”

“Did you accomplish anything at all?”

“I have a few leads to follow.” As he spoke, Murdoch backed out of the room.  He plucked his hat from the rack in the hallway and tipped it as he headed for the front door. “I’ll try to talk to Mr. Donaldson again, and if I find any new information, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Should I come by the station this afternoon?”

“No, that won’t be necessary.”

He closed the door behind him feeling like a perfect coward.  He only hoped neither Pendrick nor his brother had witnessed his rapid exit.

At the station he called George into his office and gave him a task: compile all available information on Rory Malone.  Murdoch wanted to know all the Constabulary knew about the man’s illegal operations, especially everything about the charge he was currently facing.  He didn’t want to interfere in Conroy’s case, but figured the latter could hardly complain about a fellow detective investigating a known criminal. 

Crabtree went straight to work without question, but it took him the better part of the day to gather what turned out to be a thick folder of material.  Murdoch had other work to keep him busy, but nothing he couldn’t set aside as soon as he’d been given the information.

According to the Constabulary’s records, Rory Malone had been skirting the law for over twenty years, first as a hired thug, then eventually as head of one of the more efficient local Irish gangs.  His business included black-marketeering, arson and bribery, but the man himself had never been accused of murder, so Murdoch had never crossed paths with him.  Both Malone and his various lieutenants had been brought up on charges over the years, but through either ineptitude or collusion on the part of the prosecutors, few had ever been convicted. 

The charge for which Malone was currently out on bail concerned a block of warehouses at the waterfront.  The owners had come forward to accuse Malone’s gang of assault and arson for their refusal to pay for protection, and this time Rory himself had been identified at the scene of the crime.  Judge Donaldson had been appointed to oversee the trial on the assumption that he was incorruptible, but now that he was in jail, there was a greater chance that Malone could walk.

Murdoch didn’t see that he had any choice but to talk to Donaldson again.

This time Conroy accompanied him back to the cell area.  Donaldson was again slumped on his cot, and Murdoch could see that yet another twenty-four hours behind bars had taken a toll on the older man.  He noted Murdoch’s arrival with little interest.

“Sir, I’d like to ask you more questions,” Murdoch began, “about Rory Malone.”

“There’s nothing I can tell you that I haven’t already told Detective Conroy.”

“Then perhaps Detective Conroy can help as well.” He was reluctant to discourage the judge further by confessing that Conroy had not allowed him to see his statement. “What do you know about the company which issued the cheques that were deposited into the bank account?”

“I’ve heard of it in connection with Malone, but I’ve never had any dealings with it.”

Conroy’s mustache twitched. “It’s a shoe factory over in Cork Town.  Malone uses it to launder his dirty money.”

“Why would a man as astute as Malone pay a bribe using cheques that would lead right back to him?” Murdoch asked. “What does the accountant at the shoe factory say?”

“He claims they’re not his company’s cheques, although they were drawn against its account.  He says they didn’t notice that one hundred dollars was going missing every month.”

“That might be possible, considering the amount of cash that must flow through there.”

Conroy shook his head, apparently not taking the suggestion seriously. “Detective Murdoch, you’re barking up the wrong tree.  Payments were made by Malone to the judge, and they’re both going to have their day in court.  That’s all there is to it.”

“But it’s not,” Murdoch said before the other could turn to go. “How does this affect Malone?  He’s out on bail; why haven’t you brought him in on bribery charges?”

“He’s disappeared,” Conroy admitted, his beard puckering a little. “We don’t believe he’s left the city, but the constables set to watch him report that he hasn’t been seen in days.”

“Is there a manhunt on?” Donaldson asked before Murdoch could.

“No, we’re waiting to see whether he skips out on his bail.  If he doesn’t show up for his trial, we’ll put out an order to arrest him on sight.” Conroy headed for the door, keys jangling as if to hint that if Murdoch didn’t follow he’d be locked in. “I have work to do, Detective.  Is there anything else?”

Murdoch faced Donaldson again, wishing he had some good news. “Sir, I haven’t given up.”

The judge nodded. “I imagine Fiona wouldn’t let you if you tried.  Very tenacious, that young woman.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed.  Do you need anything?”

Donaldson just shook his head, so Murdoch trailed his colleague back to the main station area.  He caught up with him outside his office.

“Has another judge been selected yet for Malone’s trial?” he asked.  Conroy had been about to shut the door, but he paused.

“Yes, Judge Mitchell.  A good man, by all accounts.  We’ve looked into his background and he has a record of ruling against Malone and his gang.”

“Then it seems this bribery business has done nothing but disgrace Mr. Donaldson.  May I see the evidence against him?”

This time Conroy did close his door in Murdoch’s face.

The afternoon did not go any better from there.  Soon after Murdoch returned to the station, Fiona arrived to check on his progress.  Constable Higgins escorted her to Murdoch’s office, waggled his eyebrows suggestively behind her back, then retreated quickly under Murdoch’s disapproving frown.  After listening to Murdoch’s description of his visit to Station No. 8, and restating her earlier opinion of his investigatory abilities, Fiona swept out.  Murdoch could only hope she didn’t plan to take matters into her own hands in some way.

To top off his day, Murdoch was called into Inspector Brackenreid’s office.  His superior wasn’t smiling and he didn’t offer Murdoch a chair, although he himself was seated behind his desk, thus emphasizing his position of authority.

“It’s been brought to my attention,” he began, “that you’ve been stepping on some toes over at station eight.  Would you care to explain yourself?”  His scowl deepened as he listened to an abbreviated version of the case.  When Murdoch finished, Brackenreid got up and closed his office door.  Murdoch winced. “Detective, you have overstepped your boundaries.  Conroy is perfectly justified in complaining.  Did you expect he wouldn’t?”

“Sir, I’m convinced the judge is being framed.  If I could just examine the evidence -”

“The man said no.  More than once, to hear him tell it.”

“Sir -”

“Murdoch, Conroy gave me his side of the story, and I’m not getting into a pissing contest with station eight over a deviant who shouldn’t have been sitting on the bench to begin with.” Brackenreid’s color heightened as he spoke, although he did manage to keep his voice down.  Normally his tirades could be heard throughout the station. “Leave it be.  That’s an order.”

Murdoch hesitated.  It was rare he was inclined to disobey a direct command, but his instincts told him he’d be allowing a miscarriage of justice if he did so now. “Sir, Mr. Donaldson’s private life has no bearing on the charge of bribery.”

“Do I look like I give a damn?” Brackenreid took a deep breath. “How’d you get involved with this business anyway?  Or shouldn’t I ask?”

“A know a friend of the judge, Fiona Moretti.  She works at the Pendrick house as a maid, and she asked me to look into his case.  I could hardly refuse.”

“A maid at Pendrick’s place?” That apparently took the inspector by surprise.

“Yes.  She worked for Mr. Donaldson before being hired by Mr. Pendrick several years ago.”

“Would she be the young woman who’s been coming to see you this week?”

“Yes, that would be she.”

Brackenreid finally stood up to rummage through his cabinet for a glass. “Are we agreed you’ll stay out of Conroy’s hair from now on?”

Murdoch conceded that much. “I won’t return to station eight.”

“Good, it’s settled then.”

Brackenreid was pulling out his bottle even before Murdoch left his office.

It was a relief to get home.  Murdoch located his partner and brother in the library going over some papers fanned out over both desks.  There was barely room to move around the extra furniture, and they’d compounded it by spreading dozens of other diagrams and schematics out across the floor.  Murdoch stopped in the doorway to watch them for a moment.

“It’s not being used anyway,” Pendrick was indicating something on the paper in front of them. “I calculate it will only take a few days to modify.”

“I think it’s a workable plan,” Linney concurred.

“What is?” Murdoch asked, making them look up in surprise. 

Pendrick’s wide smile was meant to distract him from whatever he was now rolling up and slipping into a drawer. “Most of my plans are workable.  How was your day?”

“It could have been better.”

They joined him in the dining room where over dinner he related his various encounters.  Not one had produced any desirable results, and he didn’t try to hide his frustration.  Since there wasn’t anything his companions could do to help however, Murdoch welcomed a change of subject.

“How did you two spend your day?” he inquired.

“Mr. Pendrick has been demonstrating some of his inventions,” Linney stated. “I find his ideas most interesting.  His device for locating the source of radio waves is practical as well as creative.”

Pendrick shrugged. “I fear one of my colleagues in the States is further along than I in its applications, so he’ll patent it first.  Still, it is a fascinating device.”

“Did he show you his electrical connector?  The one with the socket?” Murdoch asked.  It wasn’t often he had a chance to brag about his lover’s work, especially with someone who understood how brilliant he was.

Linney nodded. “Yes, and he indicated how it could be adapted for general use.  Mr. Pendrick has a gift for recognizing what will be needed before other people realize it’s lacking.”

The remainder of the meal was spent talking about Pendrick’s ongoing inventions.

Once Murdoch and Pendrick were in bed, Murdoch’s mind went back to his forbidden case.  He couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that it could be him in Donaldson’s place thirty years hence, his character destroyed, his past work in question, his future dismal.  He couldn’t in good conscience let the older man’s life end on a lie.

“There’s no chance Detective Conroy is involved in the frame-up, is there?” Pendrick asked when Murdoch had tossed and turned for a while.  It didn’t take a genius to know what was keeping him awake.

“I don’t think so.  As far as I’ve heard, he is a competent and honest policeman,” Murdoch said.

“With a blind spot, unfortunately.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure whether his blind spot is homosexuality or Rory Malone.”

“Even Jasper is familiar with this crime boss.  He sounds like a dangerous man.” Pendrick finally rested his head on Murdoch’s shoulder, a signal that he intended to go to sleep soon. “It seems odd that the police wouldn’t want to arrest him immediately for bribery, rather than take a chance that he’ll skip on his bail.”

“Apparently he’s never skipped before,” Murdoch replied, but he thought it strange too. “Speaking of Jasper, has he said how long he’ll be with us?”

“No.  He received a telegram today from his wife, but he didn’t say what was in it.  He borrowed the carriage soon afterwards to take that trunk to the train station.  Since he sent it on ahead, he must intend to stay in Toronto a while longer.” The slowness of Pendrick’s speech indicated he was half asleep already.

Murdoch kissed his temple and stopped fidgeting.  He briefly wondered whether the Mountie and his wife might be having marital difficulties, but he dismissed that idea.  It was entirely out of character for the man to flee to another city rather than face his problems.  He must simply be enjoying his hosts’ company enough to prolong his stay.

*****

Next morning Murdoch managed to leave the house without running into Fiona, and upon reaching the station learned of a murder in a bar on Jackson Street which occupied him for most of the day.  By late afternoon he found himself at the morgue to hear Julia’s report regarding the body.  She was complete and concise as usual, her findings verifying his own conclusion that the bartender did it.

Afterwards he lingered to chat, but his thoughts once again drifted toward the judge’s predicament.

“Do you know who the pathologist is for station eight?” he asked.

“Yes, we’re acquainted.  Why?” Julia asked.  Murdoch’s expression answered for him. “You want to know if I’ll question him about Mr. Donaldson’s case.  William, why are you so obsessed with this?”

“Have you never worried at a piece of evidence long after it seemed productive because you _knew_ it would yield the clue you needed to solve a case?”

Julia hesitated. “To be honest, I would more likely move on to the next piece of evidence, but I’m not you.  What clue do you expect the evidence to yield?”

“Who is framing the judge, and why.  We still haven’t established why he would be the target.  Nothing about it would seem to benefit Rory Malone, so who else would want to see him disgraced?”

“Someone with access to his house, apparently,” Julia suggested. “You said a ledger was found in his desk.  If the judge is innocent, how did it get there?”

“Very good question.” Murdoch sighed. “And one that I have no way of asking.”

Back at the station, Constable Crabtree followed Murdoch into his office and closed the door.  He clearly had some titillating news to impart.

“Sir,” he began, “I thought you’d want to know that you’re the subject of some gossip among the lads.” Murdoch just sent him a wary look. “Miss Moretti came by while you were out.  She waited for quite some time.  I’m afraid that Higgins and the others have figured out that she’s the reason you’re living at the Pendrick house.”

“Excuse me?”

“They understand why you’d want to keep your love affair a secret, being that she’s just a maid and you’re a gentleman.” Crabtree’s eyes couldn’t have gotten any larger, but he kept a straight face. “Might I add, Sir, that they applaud your taste in females.” He caught himself. “Not that they questioned your taste in Dr. Ogden.  That is to say -”

Murdoch blinked. “George, did you encourage this rumor?”

“I didn’t have to, not after Inspector Brackenreid got wind of it.  He told us to keep it to ourselves, or at least within the police department.” Crabtree waited for a response, but since Murdoch was obviously stunned, he turned to go.  An afterthought made him pause. “There was also a reporter here this afternoon asking about you.  It seems you’re going to be in the newspaper again, Sir.”

“Do you know why?”

The constable frowned a bit. “Actually, no.  I couldn’t tell from his questions which case he was following up on.  He seemed mostly concerned with your reputation for honesty and resourcefulness.”

Murdoch wondered if Crabtree appreciated the irony of the reporter’s timing. “Thank you, George.”

When he walked into the house that evening, the first thing that struck him was the smell of a cigar.  Pendrick was wont to smoke upon occasion, usually in celebration of one form or another, but he hadn’t lit one up to Murdoch’s knowledge since they’d been together.  Murdoch followed the aroma to the music room, where he found his partner alone, standing at the open terrace doors and staring out at the back grounds.  If the breeze hadn’t carried the cigar smell through the house, Murdoch probably wouldn’t have known about it.

“James?  Are you all right?” he asked.

Pendrick turned and held out his hand, realized it contained his cigar, and stubbed that out on the doorstep.  He spoke in an oddly flat tone. “William, congratulate me.  It seems I’m a father.”

Murdoch, who had been about to clasp his fingers, froze in place. “Excuse me?”

“I might have a daughter.” Pendrick offered the photograph he held in his other hand. “Her name is Lisette and she’s sixteen.”

Murdoch glanced at the picture, but it didn’t depict a woman in her teens.  The figures in the old photograph were of an attractive brunette in her mid-twenties and a small child. “I don’t understand.”

“Nor do I.”

Pendrick led him onto the terrace where they sat side by side.  Murdoch wanted to face his lover while he explained, but the man was clearly floored by whatever the picture meant to him.  Seeing that he wasn’t ready to speak yet, Murdoch left him there to hurry to the dining room and pour a glass of scotch.  He brought it back and put it into the man’s grasp.  After a moment Pendrick raised it to his lips.

Murdoch retook his seat. “James?  You need to explain.”

“Yes, I do.” Pendrick finally glanced at Murdoch with something like his usual wits. “The photograph was delivered today along with a letter.  Lisette is in Toronto and would like to meet me.”

“You’ve never met her?”

“Believe me, if I suspected I had a child, I would have told you.  That is _not_ the sort of information I would withhold.” He resumed gazing at the empty lawn. “I mentioned I had an internship in New York, didn’t I?  After I’d graduated from university.  I was alone in the city, staying at a boarding house, and I met Pauline there.  She was French, an actress and quite beautiful.  We were lovers for about a year, then I had to come back to Toronto because my parents were killed.”

“You didn’t know she was with child?” Murdoch asked quietly.

“No.  I can’t believe she knew it either.  I asked her to marry me, and she turned me down because she didn’t want to leave New York.  I never heard from her again.”

“Why did she write you now?”

Pendrick finally faced him. “She didn’t.  She died of pneumonia four months ago.  It’s Lisette who sent the photograph and letter because she’s on her own and has no one else to turn to.  Pauline told her all about me, including where I lived, so she’s come to Toronto to request my help.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Meet with her.  She said she’s brought her birth certificate in case I have any doubts about her story.  After I see that, I’ll decide.” 

Murdoch watched him down his drink and decided that news of his affair definitely trumped the one Murdoch was supposedly having.  He decided not to mention Station No. 4’s rumor mongers and only hoped their delusion would never reach Fiona’s ears.

“You received a package today too,” Pendrick remarked. “And Jasper received another telegram from his wife.  Very curious.  I haven’t told him about Lisette, by the way.  I’d rather meet her in person before expanding this family any further.”

“This family?” Murdoch echoed.  The words made him smile despite his partner’s bemusement.

“The extended Pendrick-Murdoch clan.” Pendrick smiled too as he said it.  When he met Murdoch’s eyes, he laughed drily. “At least, if I have to be a father, the child has already grown up.  A sixteen year old could conceivably be decent company.”

That struck Murdoch as rather cold, but he didn’t protest, confident that Pendrick would be suitably sympathetic and paternal when he met the girl.

Meanwhile, the package that had come for him was waiting in the library.  There was no postmark on it, and as soon as Murdoch opened it he understood why: it was the evidence from Donaldson’s case, bagged and labeled.  The ledger and deposit slips were there as well as the judge’s written statement and Conroy’s report.  There was no note to explain its presence, and Murdoch could only conclude that something had caused the detective to change his mind since speaking to Brackenreid.  The fact that Conroy preferred that Murdoch examine it outside police premises could just mean he was being overly cautious.

By mutual consent and for entirely different reasons, Murdoch, Pendrick and Linney opted to forego dinner together that evening.  Murdoch delved into the evidence bags with a magnifying glass and chalk board at hand, scrutinizing every object front and back.  He listed deposit dates and ledger entries, read and re-read the statement and report, tested for finger marks and studied any other minute details he could find.  The leather ledger had been wiped clean, and the only finger marks on the deposit slips belonged to the bank teller according to Conroy’s notes.  The printing in the ledger was inconclusive, but the signatures on the slips did indisputably match the sample Donaldson had provided.  In fact, in Murdoch’s opinion, they matched too closely.  After comparing the signatures on all twenty-two slips, Murdoch knew he had some research to do.

 *****

Pendrick’s meeting with Lisette was scheduled for noon.  Murdoch offered to make himself available, but his lover declined, saying he wanted to get the initial shock over without witnesses.  He was still a bit off kilter, so Murdoch didn’t push.

With the murder from the previous day all but wrapped up, Murdoch had time to pursue his suspicion.  He’d read of a case that had taken place in the states some thirty-five years earlier that hinged on proving the signature on a will was a forgery.  Attorneys had called upon a mathematician to compare a valid signature with the one in question and using his statistical analysis had proven that the will was forged.  Murdoch didn’t recall all the details, but he was able to locate the article and spend a good portion of the day studying the mathematics involved.  By the time he left the station to go home, he knew exactly what to do to prove the evidence against the judge was false.

He was about two miles from the house when he was waylaid.  Someone he never saw darted out from between two buildings and thrust a stick into the spokes of his bicycle.  The wheel turned sharply, causing Murdoch to catapult over the handle bars.  He landed on the grass without injury, but before he could get to his feet, several hands had thrown a bag over his head, hoisted him upright, and pulled him into a nearby structure.  When the bag was removed, he was sitting on a stool in a dim room facing a stranger.

“Detective Murdoch, I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance,” the man said with a slight Irish lilt.  He was well-dressed and not obviously armed, leaving the brandishing of weapons to the other four men in the room.  Murdoch could make out pale skin and dark slicked-back hair, and eyes so light in color they almost appeared translucent.  He’d seen this man’s picture before.

“Mr. Malone,” he acknowledged, glad his voice was steady. “I wasn’t aware you wanted to meet me.”

“No?  Did you think I’d leave my fate in the hands of Detective Conroy and Judge Mitchell?”

“I have no influence over your fate.”

“There you’d be wrong.” Malone snapped his fingers, and one of his underlings turned up an overhead lamp.  Now Murdoch could see the intensity on the other’s face. “You’re trying to prove that Judge Donaldson wasn’t bribed.  I know nothing of that; I just want you to prove that it wasn’t I who bribed him.” 

“Why should a charge of bribery matter to you, when you’re likely to be convicted of worse crimes?” Murdoch brushed himself off and tried to make his glance around the room seem casual.  Near as he could tell, he was in an empty house.  There were a few pieces of covered furniture scattered around and shutters over all the windows.

“Let me worry about the worse crimes,” Malone said, never shifting his gaze. “I know very well who is behind my frame-up, the same person who paid men to swear I was present at the warehouses when they went up in flames.  I wasn’t, and my attorney will be able to prove that in court, if I can get there.”

Murdoch wasn’t following. “You say you know who is framing Mr. Donaldson?  Who?”

“I’m saying _if_ he was framed, it was by someone other than I.  Have you heard of Kevin Callahan?  He used to be one of my lieutenants.  He’s trying to set himself up as a contender, and his way of doing that is to send me off to prison.  He’s removed Donaldson and replaced him with his own pet judge.”

“Mitchell is being paid to rule against you?  Are you sure?”

Malone managed to look impatient with Murdoch’s slowness without batting an eye. “Detective Murdoch, I wouldn’t have brought you here if I weren’t certain.  I’ve done some reading up on you.  You’re more intelligent than the average copper, and you play fair.  That’s why I sent you the evidence.”

Murdoch sat up straighter, causing the men around him to twitch. “ _You_ sent the evidence from the judge’s case?  How did you get it?” He tried to stay calm when he really wanted to tear his hair out. “Don’t you realize it’s contaminated now?  I could have proven it false, but you’ve rendered it worthless!”

Malone smiled at his vehemence and snapped his fingers again.  This time all but one of his men left the room, making their conversation seem a little less forced. “I see I was right about you.  The evidence goes missing, and you’re concerned with it being contaminated.  Hasn’t it occurred to you that with no evidence, there’s no case against Donaldson?”

It hadn’t till just then.  Murdoch met his eyes again. “How did you get it?  And why send it to me?  The charge against Mr. Donaldson would have been dropped when it was discovered that the evidence was gone.  Why get me involved?”

“Let’s just say I have eyes and ears where they need to be.  I involved you because my sources say you’re the kind of man who’ll see it through.  I don’t care whether Donaldson is cleared; my aim is to have the evidence discredited so that I’m not named in his case.  I don’t want Callahan and Mitchell setting me up for crimes I had naught to do with.”

“Will you swear to me that you haven’t tampered with the evidence?”

“I swear on my honor as a good Catholic.” Malone laughed under his breath at Murdoch’s reaction.  Despite the circumstances of this meeting, he seemed to be enjoying it. “Haven’t you ever seen me at church, Detective Murdoch?  We attend the same one.  I’ve known Father Lanahan for years.”

Murdoch hadn’t noticed him, probably because he tended to keep a low profile there.  Saint Joseph’s was miles from the Pendrick house, and Murdoch didn’t want anyone questioning why he didn’t visit one in his own parish.  While it bothered him to hear that Father Lanahan allowed a known criminal to attend his services, he could hardly complain when the priest allowed unknown criminals equal access.

“What do you expect me to do?  I can prove the evidence has been forged, but it won’t help anyone unless it’s returned to station eight without anyone there knowing it was taken.”

“Let me worry about that.  You say you can prove the so-called evidence has no connection to me or my factory?”

“I believe I can prove it has no connection to Mr. Donaldson.  It’s up to you to prove it has no connection to your factory.”

“And you’re willing to do this without revealing to the Powers That Be that you and I had this little conference?”

That was another issue entirely.  Murdoch looked away, debating the wisdom of telling the crime boss that he had no intention of lying for him.  Malone didn’t seem violent, but his henchman had never lowered his pistol, and there would be no reason to suspect them if a random police detective were to disappear. “I won’t mention it unless the subject comes up.”

Malone flashed a rather attractive smile. “Good enough.  How long will it take you to prove the evidence false?  Can you do it without ‘tampering’ with it?”

“Yes, I just need to study it further and make some calculations.”

“You have till Sunday.  Bring it to services with you.  I’ll see it finds its way back to the station.”

“You’ll be at church on Sunday?  I was told you’ve gone into hiding.”

“I never miss Sunday mass,” Malone said, as if such an act were unthinkable.

Murdoch recalled something he’d said earlier. “Is there some doubt whether you’ll make it to court for your trial?”

“If I’m alive, I’ll be there.”

There seemed to be a great deal more going on than Murdoch was privy to, but he decided not to inquire.  The less he knew of Malone’s dealings, the less he’d have to conceal.

“Am I free to go?” he asked.

Malone snapped his fingers one more time, and the light went out.  Murdoch stood up immediately, but the sound of approaching feet was followed by the sack again being tugged over his head.  He was able to orient himself this time as several men hustled him out of the house and up a dirt road; when he was pushed to the ground and left there to pull the bag off, he was annoyed to find himself alone beside his damaged bicycle.  At the end of the street he could see a carriage moving away, but it was already too far for him to note any distinctive markings.

At least the long walk home would allow him time to reflect on everything he’d learned, although he suspected the sum total wouldn’t be much.

*****

Pendrick wasn’t there when Murdoch arrived, but he was greeted by Linney, who told him that Pendrick had gone out to dine with his daughter.  The fact that the Mountie knew of Lisette’s existence indicated that she’d been able to convince Pendrick of her identity.  Murdoch was a bit awed that his partner was indeed a father.  He was quite eager to meet the young lady.

He didn’t tell Linney of his encounter with Malone, and for the time being he didn’t intend to tell Pendrick either.  Once their plan succeeded and Donaldson was vindicated he might share some of the details, but Murdoch couldn’t imagine ever wanting to brag that he was essentially working with a criminal.  He had an uneasy feeling that he’d wake up next morning unable to believe what he’d agreed to do.

Linney was quiet over dinner, which suited Murdoch just fine.  After they’d cleared up, when Murdoch headed for the library and the evidence packet, Linney followed him.

“Might I have a word, William?” he asked.  His handsome face was somber and Murdoch gathered that he considered his topic unsuitable for dinner conversation.

“Of course.  Have a seat.”  Since there was no room in the library to move two chairs close enough to chat, they ended up sitting on the desks themselves. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I was hoping to find a good time to reveal some bad news.  You and James are constantly busy however, and the news cannot be delayed any longer.” Linney met Murdoch’s eyes. “Harry is dying.”

Whatever Murdoch had been braced for, it wasn’t that.  He had no immediate response that his brother wouldn’t find insensitive, so he stalled. “Would it be due to his liver?”

“Yes, his drinking has caught up with him.  He was ailing when I left; that’s why he requested the contents of his trunk.  I believe it contains items from his past that he’d like to go through.  Since I’ve been here, his condition has worsened.  Corrinne believes he has no more than a week or two at most.” He reminded him, as if Murdoch might be wondering, “Corrinne is a nurse by profession.”

“That’s fortunate.”

“He’s expressed a desire to see you again before he dies, and I’ve promised to attempt to persuade you to return to Vancouver with me.”

“When?”

“As soon as possible.  The journey takes four days by train.”

The man appeared saddened by the imminent loss of his father, and Murdoch felt like a cad for not reassuring him at once that he would make the trip.  He wouldn’t use the excuse that the timing was incredibly bad, although it was.  He couldn’t leave Toronto before he’d handed the Donaldson evidence over to Malone on Sunday, and it was doubtful Pendrick would be willing to leave the city now that he was getting to know Lisette.  Murdoch started resigning himself to traveling without his partner.

“I’ll talk to Pendrick tonight and to my superior tomorrow,” he said, “but I don’t foresee being able to leave before mid-week.”

Linney brightened. “That will be fine.  As soon as you’ve arranged it, I will purchase the train tickets.”

He left Murdoch to his work then, and Murdoch refocused his thoughts on the problem at hand.

According to his reading that day, Murdoch’s suspicions regarding the judge’s signature on the deposit slips was correct.  The legal case he’d recalled hinged on the fact that authentic signatures vary minutely.  A handwriting expert had demonstrated that when comparing down-strokes of the average signature, only a small percentage would be identical.  Yet, even without a magnifying glass, it was clear that several of the ones purporting to be Donaldson’s matched line for line.  Mathematically speaking, it was improbable to the point of impossible that this would happen naturally.

Laying out all twenty odd slips, Murdoch studied and matched them, eventually reducing them to three distinct piles.  His conclusion was that the party who forged them knew something of handwriting analysis but had only been able to get three examples of Donaldson’s signature to copy.  It didn’t give any clue as to who the party was, but simply proving that someone other than the judge had signed the deposit slips ought to cast enough doubt on the evidence to exonerate him.  Once he’d written up his theory at his office on Monday, Murdoch intended to once more visit Station No. 8 and insist upon being allowed to examine the evidence in Conroy’s presence, even if he had to bring Inspector Brackenreid along.

He was carefully repackaging the materials when Pendrick got home.  The latter was in good spirits, jubilant but trying to hide it behind a calm façade which didn’t fool Murdoch for an instant.

“She really is your daughter?” he asked when his partner located him in the library.

“It appears that way,” Pendrick said.  He pulled out the photograph he’d shown earlier along with a more current one. “Lisette looks a lot like Pauline.”

Murdoch had to agree.  Lisette also looked quite young and unworldly. “Did you say she’s sixteen?”

“Yes, as of six months ago.  Pauline was barely two months along when we separated.”

“Lisette provided her birth certificate?”

“Yes, I have it here.” Pendrick tapped his inside pocket. “Jasper asked that I bring it for him to see.  I don’t blame him for being cautious, but I can promise you both that she’s Pauline’s child and the timing does work out.” He paused and met Murdoch’s eyes, his own alight. “I can hardly believe it.  I really am a father.”

“And you evidently get along well to have taken her to both lunch and dinner.”

“She’s a sweet girl.  A bit shy, but she’s also still in mourning, so I’ll make allowances for her reticence.”

Murdoch tried to envision the man dining willingly with a young woman who couldn’t carry on a conversation, and his imagination failed him. “When do I get the honor of meeting her?”

“I’ve invited her to join us for dinner here tomorrow.  I’ll ask Mary to cook something special.” Pendrick glanced around the room. “Are you ready to retire?”

“Yes.” Deciding on the spot that his own news about the judge’s case could wait as well as Linney’s news about Harry, Murdoch moved to turn out the lights. “Let’s go upstairs and you can tell me all about her.  And about Pauline.”

The smile on his partner’s face told Murdoch he’d made the right choice.  Once settled in bed, Pendrick talked for over an hour about his ex-lover, relating his own memories of her as well as stories Lisette had told.  Apparently the only time the girl became animated was when speaking about her late mother.  Listening to his bedmate praise her just as highly, Murdoch realized that it was regaining a connection to his past as much as a conduit to the future that had Pendrick so elated.  He fell asleep wondering why he hadn’t heard about Pauline before.

Early next morning Murdoch gathered Pendrick and Linney in the library.  He handed them several blank sheets of paper and asked them both to sign their names five times each.  Once they did so, he collected them  and pulled out his magnifying glass.  The others knew he planned to debunk the evidence against Donaldson, but Murdoch hadn’t explained how:  he wanted to practice his demonstration in front of a receptive audience before having to present it to his fellow policemen.

“It’s a relatively new branch of forensic science,” he began, “called ‘Questioned Document Examination’.  Rather than using handwriting analysis to determine something about the writer, one studies the writing to determine its authenticity.  By breaking a signature, for instance, down to its mathematical components, one can tell whether it’s a forgery.”

Linney was nodding. “I’ve heard of it.  I don’t believe it is always accepted in a court of law.”

“If I can prove to the arresting officer that Mr. Donaldson didn’t sign those slips, it shouldn’t go as far as a court.”

Comparing Pendrick’s five signatures, Murdoch was able to point out how the strokes differed even though they were obviously authentic.  He did the same with Linney’s, and not only were no two signatures identical, the number of variations fell into the same mathematical range as Pendrick’s.  Murdoch then asked them each to sign five more times while his back was turned and to also trade papers and sign each other’s names by tracing the originals.  Since his test subjects had figured out what he was doing, he knew they would do their best to confound him.

It took close study, but Murdoch was able to correctly deduce in every instance which signatures were authentic and which false. 

“Very impressive,” Pendrick said. “And you’re positive you’ll be able to do the same with Donaldson’s signatures?”

“I am.  The judge provided a sample signature.  The others won’t of course be tracings of that one, but if they’re tracings of each other, I’ll be able to prove it.  If Detective Conroy balks at letting me test Mr. Donaldson’s signatures, I’ll do the same demonstration for him that I did here.”

“A very useful tool,” Linney concurred. “I will be sure to read up on it once I’m back in Vancouver.”

As soon as he got to the station, Murdoch submitted a request for some time off.  Brackenreid wasn’t in, so he left it on the inspector’s desk, conceding that Monday was going to be an interesting day all around.

He had some other work to complete, but as soon as he was free he wrote up his QDE theory.  It was a bit challenging to make his point without indicating that he’d already seen the evidence, but if Malone’s people did their job right, there would be no reason for anyone to suspect him of having done so.  If Malone’s people failed, Murdoch’s argument would be pointless anyway.

*****

When he got home, he was bemused to find Pendrick in the ballroom showing Linney how to tango.  He wasn’t surprised to see that the taller man was even less adept than he had been, and Pendrick gave up with a crooked smile upon seeing Murdoch walk in.

“It appears you were right,” he said. “Being able to waltz doesn’t mean one can perform any other steps well.”

“You may give me lessons another time,” Murdoch promised. “When do we expect Lisette to arrive?”

“I’ll pick her up at her boarding house at seven o’clock.”

Linney seemed a bit perturbed, but Murdoch didn’t think it was due to his failure on the dance floor.  He followed Murdoch from the room. “William, may I speak to you in private?”

Assuming it was about Harry, Murdoch led him to the music room.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t had a chance to talk to James -”

“It’s another matter,” Linney admitted.  He hesitated, which was so unlike him that Murdoch grew alarmed. “Before James leaves to bring Miss Lisette to dinner, would you ask to borrow her birth certificate?  I’d like you to do a QDE test on it.”

Murdoch blinked. “What do you suspect?”

“I’m not sure.  I realize the signature will be meaningless without one to compare it to, but I have reservations about the young lady’s true identity.”

“Why?  If James is satisfied she’s his daughter, how can you or I determine otherwise?”

Linney didn’t answer directly.  “I feel it is my duty to act on my reservations.  You and James have been very generous hosts, and it would be remiss of me to let an imposter enter your lives if I can prevent it.”

“I’ll ask to see the birth certificate, and if there is anything about it to cause me doubt, I’ll test it.” Murdoch couldn’t promise more than that.  He wanted Pendrick to be right about Lisette for his own sake.

When Murdoch returned to the ballroom, Pendrick was just preparing to leave.  He handed over the certificate with a puzzled look, but didn’t ask why Murdoch wanted it.  The fact that he was still carrying it in his pocket told Murdoch he had to be certain about Linney’s fears before revealing them. 

A quick scan of the document raised no suspicions.  It stated that Lisette was born in New York to Pauline Simone, father unknown.  The signature of the doctor meant nothing, and there was little other information to test.

“What were you expecting to see?” Pendrick asked when Murdoch offered it back.

“Just curious,” Murdoch said somewhat lamely.

“About her height and weight at birth?” Pendrick met his eyes, then gave him a quick kiss and turned to go. “You can hang onto it, if you like.”

Murdoch slipped it into his own pocket, glad his partner wasn’t offended. 

He and Linney prepared the dining room while he was gone, laying out Mary’s best roast and trimmings.  They dressed for the occasion; Murdoch truly felt like he was meeting his partner’s family for the first time, and he was uncharacteristically nervous.  Although certain Pendrick hadn’t yet confessed his relationship to the girl, it would happen sooner or later, and Murdoch wanted to make an excellent first impression.

Lisette, when she entered the house, appeared stunned by its size.  She eyed the large foyer and grand staircase with awe, and when Pendrick urged her forward to meet his household, she walked as if afraid to make a noise on the hardwood floor.

“Lisette, these are my very good friends, William Murdoch and Jasper Linney,” Pendrick said, deliberately speaking more gently than usual.  He smiled when Lisette offered her hand and curtsied at the same time. “Gentlemen, may I present Lisette Simone.”

“I’m happy to meet you,” Murdoch said at once, clasping her fingers briefly.  The girl was shorter than she’d appeared in her photograph, and although she’d made an attempt to pin her chestnut hair up, she still struck him as young and backward. “How are you enjoying your visit to Toronto?”

“It’s all been a bit overwhelming,” she said, and left it at that.  After greeting Linney, she let Pendrick take her arm to escort her in to dinner, where the sight of the large room and long table again made her gape.  However since all the settings were at one end, and it was her host himself who served everyone, she soon began to relax.

Inevitably, the initial conversation was all about her.

“I understand your mother was a talented actress,” Murdoch remarked. “Are you thinking of following in her footsteps?”

“No, I could never go on stage,” Lisette said with certainty. “I haven’t the temperament.”

“Is this your first time in Canada?”                

“We spent a few weeks in Montreal once when I was small.  Mama had relatives there, but they’re gone now.”

“You grew up in New York, is that correct?” Linney asked.

“Yes, it was where Mama could find work, at least until she got sick.  She hadn’t been well for several years before she passed.”

Pendrick let the interrogation go on without comment.  Whenever Murdoch glanced his way, he caught a small private smile on his partner’s face, which told him nothing.  When it didn’t seem to reach Pendrick’s eyes, Murdoch began to wonder.

Linney was the first to throw down a challenge. “It’s fortunate you came to Toronto at this time, Miss Simone, or we might not have met.  I too am a guest in this city.  In a few days I’ll be returning to British Columbia where I serve as a member of the North-West Mounted Police.”

Lisette looked from him to Pendrick quickly. “You’re a policeman?  Papa didn’t mention that.”

“Mr. Murdoch is also a policeman, a detective with the Toronto Constabulary,” Linney added.  He was watching her closely.

“He is?  How exciting,” Lisette said after the barest pause.  She seemed to be having difficulty meeting their eyes. “I thought you were all inventors like my father.”

Pendrick’ voice was dry. “No, I met Detective Murdoch when he arrested me.  For a crime I didn’t commit, of course.”

For the rest of the meal he told her a bit about his past with Murdoch, without revealing anything too personal.  Lisette listened quietly, responding when necessary, but not asking questions.  Her shyness had returned, and by the time they’d finished dining, she was ready to go.

Pendrick brushed against Murdoch as he followed her out to the carriage in order to murmur, “We’ll talk when I get back.”

By the time he did, Murdoch intended to have examined Lisette’s birth certificate with every analytical tool in his arsenal.

In the end, it didn’t take a QDE expert to realize what had been done.  Although there was nothing irregular to see with the naked eye, when studying the document against a lighted screen Murdoch was able to pick out several tiny alterations.  It was well crafted, but when enlarged under the microscope, the small pen strokes added to the certificate’s date were clear.  Lisette had been born a full year after she’d claimed.

Once his suspicions had been confirmed Linney retired, leaving Murdoch to explain to Pendrick that his new-found daughter was a fraud.  Murdoch was dreading it; he closed up the house and waited in their bedroom, hoping that having this discussion in their private area would soften the blow.

Pendrick came straight upstairs.  He stopped in the doorway, noted Murdoch’s expression, and began to undress without a word.

“James.”

“I know.”

“You do?  How?”

Pendrick sat down on the edge of the bed where Murdoch lay propped up. “Her lines were a little too well rehearsed.  The same answers to the same questions, no variation.” He accepted Murdoch’s hand with a sigh. “And try as I might, I couldn’t see myself in her.  I see Pauline in every move she makes, but not a trace of a Pendrick.”

Murdoch explained what he’d discovered. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.” Pendrick finished removing his clothes and turned out the light.  When he stretched out beside Murdoch, head on his shoulder, he spoke again. “What made you and Jasper distrust her?”

“I’m not sure what sparked Jasper’s doubts,” Murdoch admitted. “My first concern was her age.  She seemed younger than sixteen.” He waited in vain for a reply. “When will you confront her?”

“I have a luncheon date with her tomorrow while you’re at church.  This charade has to end.”

That was all Pendrick was willing to say on the subject that night.

 *****

Next day Murdoch felt like a criminal bicycling to church with the stolen evidence.  He arrived early and assumed his usual seat on a side aisle towards the back, for once watching everyone as they entered.  Malone was one of the last of the flock to appear; he genuflected, took a seat towards the front, and gave no indication that he knew Murdoch was present.

After the service, Murdoch lingered near the baptismal font while the rest of the congregation lined up to greet Father Lanahan.  He wasn’t aware of anyone coming up beside him till there was a small tug on the envelope he’d been tightly gripping.

“Were you successful?” Malone asked, smoothly concealing the evidence packet under his coat.

Murdoch glanced at him, noting that up close the man’s eyes were even more disconcerting.  From the side they appeared transparent, and Murdoch really didn’t want to see what was behind them. “Yes, I can prove the judge was framed.  Can you explain how the checks came to be issued from your factory?”

“My educated guess would be that Callahan whipped up a batch of them in his printing shop.  All he needed was my factory’s bank information.”

“Is there anything else?”

“Not if you’re able to see this through.  The evidence will be back in place by morning.”

Murdoch was itching to leave.  Malone hadn’t looked at him once, and to all appearances they were just two parishioners who happened to be standing next to each other to avoid the crowd, but he was still edgy.  They were both known figures in the city.  Murdoch couldn’t take a chance on their being recognized together.

“We’ll have no further contact?” he asked.

“Unless you count the occasional polite nod in church.”

Murdoch didn’t.  He exited quickly through a side door.

He wasn’t even halfway home when a carriage veered into his path, forcing Murdoch to steer his bicycle up onto the pavement.  The businesses along that street were closed for the day so no pedestrians were endangered, but his recently damaged bicycle again bent with the impact.  Irritated, Murdoch was about to get out his notebook and write down a description of the vehicle when he was abruptly pulled backwards into the nearest shop.  The interior was completely dark once the door closed behind him, but he didn’t have to see what was pressing into his back to know it was the muzzle of a gun.

“No sudden moves,” a voice instructed. “Turn around slowly and walk forward.”

Murdoch did so, blindly holding his arms out to check for obstacles.  He could tell when he passed through a doorway; after that the space around him narrowed.  A few yards later his hands reached a wooden surface, and the man behind him shoved open a door.  Another step and Murdoch was in an alleyway between the deserted shops.

“Detective Murdoch, you are becoming quite a thorn in my side,” a different voice said, its owner calmly holding a second pistol on him. “What did Malone tell you about me?”

This man was in his early thirties or so, red-haired, ruddy-faced, and a total stranger to Murdoch.

“Who are you?” Murdoch demanded.  An instant later, the pieces connected. “Kevin Callahan?”

“In the flesh.  You’ve been meeting with Malone, and since you haven’t arrested him, I’m guessing he’s been telling you something to make you think he’s in the right.  What did he tell you?”

Murdoch looked around quickly.  In one direction the alley was a dead-end, and in the other a wagon full of junk had been temporarily placed across the road.  The man who’d grabbed him blocked his path to the rear. “He told me that it was you who framed him and Mr. Donaldson for bribery.”

“Me?  When it was himself who’s been paying off every judge he could get his filthy hands on?” Callahan sounded righteously indignant. “Donaldson was the only one who wouldn’t play along, so the bastard framed him in order to have him removed from the bench.”

“Why would he do so using checks from one of his own factories?”

“I’ll bet he has an explanation for that, hasn’t he?  Something that incriminates me?”

“Not unless the evidence is proven to be forged.” Murdoch fell silent, realizing that was exactly what Malone had arranged to happen, with Murdoch’s assistance. 

His face must have reflected his thoughts, because Callahan made a triumphant noise.

“It was, wasn’t it?  So now the police are going to think that I’m behind it and stop searching for him.” His eyes narrowed. “Why tell you all of this?  He needed something from you, didn’t he?  Something that serves your purpose as well, or you wouldn’t be associating with the bastard.” Murdoch was finished with this conversation, but the other was evidently accustomed to thinking out loud. “Conroy still thinks the judge is dirty, so the evidence hasn’t been exposed yet.  That’s your job, isn’t it?  You’re going to point the finger at me on Malone’s behalf.”

“I’m not working for Malone, I promise you,” Murdoch said automatically.

“No?  Does he know that?”

“My only intention is to clear Mr. Donaldson.”

“With me being collateral damage?” Callahan raised his gun to point it at Murdoch’s forehead. “I could kill you right now, you know.  Then the evidence will stay as is, and Malone will pay for his own crimes.” Murdoch drew in his breath, unable to devise a plan to escape the small space.  He could feel all the blood drain from his face. “But I’m not a cold-blooded killer, like him.  I’m asking you, gentleman to gentleman, to leave well enough alone.” He lowered the weapon and gestured for his henchman to lower his as well.

Murdoch started breathing again. “If Malone is guilty, the evidence will indicate it.”

“The evidence can be made to say whatever he wants.”

“I don’t believe that.  The evidence, once it is fully examined, will lead to the truth.  If you are not involved, as you say, we will determine that.”

Callahan stared at him for a moment, as if gauging Murdoch’s honesty. That also gave Murdoch a chance to study him, and his comment about being a gentleman seemed optimistic: the man could use a shave and a wash as well as a haircut. “Then I’m safe, am I, in thinking it will point to Malone and not to me?”

“Yes, if that’s the truth.” A thought occurred to Murdoch. “Do you attend church?”

“Of course, I’m not a heathen.  I’m a member of Reverend Boylan’s congregation.” He signaled his colleague, “That’ll do, Sean.”

The latter suddenly spun Murdoch around, pushed him through the still open door, and slammed it behind him.  Murdoch heard it lock.  He was again in complete darkness, and it took him several minutes to make his way back to the front entrance.  Outside his bike lay untouched.  The shop was in the middle of the block, and Murdoch knew without bothering to confirm it that by the time he could run to the corner and around to the alley, there would be no trace of Callahan or his thug.

He righted his bicycle and began walking home with a sense of déjà vu.  This time he had twice as much to contemplate, and it was vital he reached the right conclusion.  Either explanation of the evidence he presented would clear Mr. Donaldson, but only one would be the truth, and Detective Conroy would have to determine which from further investigation.  Murdoch could make a recommendation however, and it was imperative he implicate the right man.

In the end, his decision was based on something Callahan had not even considered.  Malone was a Catholic in good standing at Father Lanahan’s church, so Murdoch had to believe there was some virtue in him. He had to go with his instincts on this one.

 *****

When he got back home Pendrick was still out, and so was Linney.  Murdoch put together a cold lunch for himself and was clearing his QDE notes off his desk when he heard the carriage pull up.  To his confusion, three people came in together:  Pendrick, Linney, and Lisette.  The latter two carried small carpet bags.  When Pendrick noticed Murdoch watching from the library, he excused himself while the other two went upstairs.

Murdoch had too many questions to know where to begin.  He let Pendrick guide him back into the library, where Pendrick pushed him gently into his reading chair while he leaned on the desk.

“The meeting did not go as expected,” he began, “to understate the obvious.  It turns out Miss Simone not only knows who her real father is, he is in fact in Toronto.  It was he who put her up to this pretense.”

“Is Pauline really deceased?”

“Yes, that part was true.  The part about Lisette growing up without a father was true as well.  The man only showed up when Pauline was dying.  She hadn’t been able to work for a while and was penniless, so she’d contacted him in hopes he could provide for her daughter after she was gone.  The father, Jacques, was equally penniless, but knowing Pauline’s history, he devised this plan to trick me into making Lisette my heir.”

“That’s one way of providing for her,” Murdoch agreed.  He was wary of his partner’s composure, because he knew this had to have been a disappointing day. “You met the man?”

“Yes, once Lisette knew we were onto her, she sent a note back to the boarding house.  He was staying there too, pretending they didn’t know one another.” Pendrick’s mouth tightened. “Once I saw them together, it was clear they’re related.  There’s a strong resemblance.”

“Did he confess to their plan?”

“He did.  At first he was belligerent and made some threats about Lisette being out on the street if I didn’t pay them.  He seemed to have a vague idea that he could blackmail me for having an affair with Pauline.  Even Lisette knew that was ridiculous, and she told him so.  He became quite nasty at that point, and I was about to move the meeting outside the restaurant when we were joined by another interested party.” Pendrick smiled a little, though not in amusement. “Your brother has a savior complex, doesn’t he?”

“Jasper?  How did he get there?”

“He followed me on foot until he could get a ride in a wagon.  He’d asked where we were lunching, but I certainly didn’t expect him to show up there.  Neither did Jacques, whom Lisette had already informed of his and your professions.  One look at our Mountie and Jacques deflated.”

Murdoch still couldn’t read his mood. “Why is Lisette here?”

“Because she has nowhere else to go.  Once Jacques realized that he wasn’t going to get any money from me, he tried to leave with her.  She appeared reluctant.” Pendrick paused. “She really is a sweet girl.  She says the only reason she went along with the charade was to meet me.  Pauline had talked about me a great deal while Lisette was growing up.  Apparently she regretted turning down my proposal.” His eyes became clearer as he spoke about his erstwhile lover. “How differently things would have turned out if she’d accepted.

“In any case,” he resumed when Murdoch had no response, “I don’t see the benefit of bringing the police into it.  Jacques deserves it, but I can’t press charges against him without naming Lisette, and I’m convinced that she _doesn’t_ deserve it.  Nor does she belong with a man who would use her to commit fraud.  Lisette has no strong ties to Jacques; when I suggested I pay for the remainder of her education, she seemed grateful.  She had to leave school almost a year ago when Pauline became ill.  The only conditions are that I never lay eyes on Jacques again and that she stays in school.  If she leaves, I will consider my obligation to her finished.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Murdoch said. “Do you have a school in mind?”

“I’m leaving that up to my cousin in Winnipeg.  She attended finishing school there and liked the town enough to stay.  She’ll also be able to keep an eye on Lisette for me.”

“And perhaps teach her to dance,” Murdoch added, because Pendrick had only ever mentioned his cousin in relation to the lessons she’d provided him when he was a boy.  He didn’t think they had any contact as adults.

 “Definitely to dance,” Pendrick agreed with a quick smirk. “I’ve sent her a telegram describing the situation.  If she’s amenable, I’m hoping I can send Lisette to her on the train with Jasper when he heads back to Vancouver.”

“Oh.  About that…” Murdoch decided this was the best opportunity he was going to get, so he told Pendrick what Linney had revealed about Harry.  He still wasn’t able to exhibit any grief, but his partner knew that he’d need to pay his last respects to his father whether or not he felt any familial affection.  By the time Murdoch mentioned that he’d already asked for some time off work, Pendrick was thinking ahead.

“I’m sorry, William,” he said first. “I’ve sometimes wondered whether my father and I might have grown closer given time.  It’s unlikely, but it would have been nice to have the chance.”

“I don’t find it likely either,” Murdoch said somberly.

“How quickly can you wrap up your open cases?”

“I’ve nothing urgent except Mr. Donaldson’s exoneration.”

“Which will be dealt with tomorrow, if all goes well.  I’ll need to take care of some correspondence.  Allowing Brackenreid a day to delegate your responsibilities, I would guess there’s no reason we can’t be ready to leave on Wednesday.”

Murdoch stood up, his heart lightening.  Although he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, one of the reasons he’d delayed telling Pendrick of Harry’s illness was because he hadn’t wanted to be apart from his lover for over a week.  He pulled Pendrick into his arms. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Presently they had to go upstairs to settle their new houseguest, but Linney had managed to locate a room near his that could be made habitable.  Between the four of them they produced a chamber suitable for a young lady, even if it was only for a couple of nights.

Now that she wasn’t pretending, Lisette proved to be exactly the same person she’d been before: shy, polite, and unused to lavish houses.  Pendrick showed her around the place while Murdoch and Linney went to the latter’s room to compare notes.  For one thing, Murdoch was eager to know why the Mountie had been so sure that Lisette was an imposter.

“The other day when I went to town to send a telegram, I saw Jacques,” Linney explained readily. “He looked so much like Miss Simone’s photograph, I felt compelled to follow him.  When I discovered he was staying at the same boarding house as Miss Simone, I was certain there was skullduggery afoot.  Perhaps I should have said something at the time.”

“No, I think it was better for James to figure it out on his own,” Murdoch admitted.

“Jacques appeared to be an unsavory character, one who might react aggressively if confronted, so I followed James to town to offer my assistance if it was needed.”

“I’m sure James could have handled things himself, but your presence undoubtedly saved both time and unpleasantness.”

“I’ve informed Jacques that his name and description will be posted on the NWMP watch list, in hopes it will prevent him from pursuing a life of crime.” Linney was practically glowing with virtue, so Murdoch didn’t try to disillusion him. “Thanks to James, Miss Simone will also have a chance to lead a productive, law-abiding life.  He is a fine gentleman.”

“Yes, he is.” 

Since that was established, Murdoch turned the conversation to their trip to Vancouver.  Linney was relieved that news of Harry’s state of health was out in the open, and he promised to pick up four train tickets the following day.  It was clear now that he was eager to get home to his family.

After an early dinner the whole family took a walk around the back grounds.  Pendrick had put his workshop plans on hold for the last week or so, but now he described in detail where it would be built, what sort of facilities it would contain, how it could eventually be expanded, etc.  Lisette listened attentively, clearly well on her way to being infatuated with him.  Murdoch almost regretted that she’d turned out to be someone else’s daughter.

He said as much once he and Pendrick had gone to bed.  Their rooms were the most private place in the house and by default they always seemed to talk more openly there.

“Yes, if I had to have a child, she is the kind I’d want,” Pendrick agreed.  He didn’t switch off the lamp, instead turning on his side to face Murdoch. “I _don’t_ want children.  You’re not worried about that, are you?”

“No.” Murdoch had very much wanted his own at one time, but he’d resigned himself to being an uncle. “It did seem you were becoming attached to her.”

“I was trying to.” Pendrick put away his usual wryness to speak frankly. “I suppose I wanted a connection of my own.  You have Jasper and your friends.  I have acquaintances and business associates.  It would have been nice to have a relation, in theory at least.”

“You have your cousin.”

“Catherine and I haven’t spoken in over a decade.” He absently stroked Murdoch’s hair where it had fallen free of its pomade. “The reason is rather embarrassing.  She didn’t like Sally, said she was bad news.  Catherine didn’t attend our wedding and we had no contact while Sally was with me.  Since Sally has been gone, I’ve been too stubborn to admit she was absolutely right.”

“She sounds like an intelligent woman.”

“Oh yes, and quite formidable.”

Murdoch considered his partner’s words.  Julia had once said something similar about Pendrick’s social circle. “You know, my friends are your friends too.”

“It’s not the same, my dear.”

“Does your cousin have any children?”

“Not that I know of.”

He caught Pendrick’s hand and entwined their fingers. “You have very fond memories of Pauline.  If she’d accepted your proposal, your life would be…”

“Indescribably different,” Pendrick stated.  He met Murdoch’s eyes. “There would have been no Sally, but there would also have been no you.  I can’t imagine a life without you, William.”

“I wish you wouldn’t keep secrets from me.”

“I don’t have secrets; there is simply information about me that isn’t worth sharing.” Pendrick laughed under his breath at Murdoch’s disbelieving gaze. “All right.  I’ll tell you anything you want to know, if you’ll do the same.”

“Of course.” Murdoch thought a moment. “For instance, you should know that the men at the station think I’m having an affair with Fiona.” Now it was his turn to chuckle at Pendrick’s expression. “I don’t plan to disabuse them, mainly because Inspector Brackenreid is going along with it.  In fact, he tacitly approved the rumor.”

“He’s no fool.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Does Julia know of it?”

“I certainly hope not.” Murdoch made a mental note to alert her to the gossip before she could hear it from someone else. “There’s another thing, which you’re not going to like.”

Pendrick frowned. “About Brackenreid?”

“No… About Rory Malone.”

By the time Murdoch had finished telling his story, Pendrick was sitting up and staring.  He didn’t question Murdoch’s integrity, which Murdoch had feared, but he was definitely bothered by his association with two crime bosses.

“I have three requests,” Pendrick finally said, counting them off on his fingers. “One, you never take this sort of risk again.” Murdoch nodded, considering that a given. “Two, we stay out of Toronto until Malone’s trial is over.  I don’t trust either of them not to try to contact you again if they think you can help them in some way.”

“The trial is due to start next week.  I think we can stay away that long.”

“Three, from now on, we operate under a policy of full disclosure.  My keeping secrets is fine; you withholding something like this is unacceptable.”

Murdoch had been about to protest, but he realized Pendrick was being facetious. “I agree to all three requests,” he said solemnly. “I was going to tell you everything tomorrow anyway, once I’ve exposed the evidence as a forgery.”

Pendrick sank back down beside him. “And here I was only concerned about you championing a homosexual judge.  You have got to let me worry about every aspect of your life, my love.  No worrying alone.”

Murdoch rolled on top of him to kiss him thoroughly. “Consider it done.”

 *****

Monday morning came too soon.  Murdoch was again able to slip out of the house without encountering Fiona, but that was the only easy part of the day.  He knocked at Brackenreid’s door minutes after the inspector arrived and was beckoned in.

“I saw your request for time off,” Brackenreid said at once. “Granted.  I hope you and your father are able to sort things out before he goes.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Is there something else?

“Yes.  I need your help to prevent an injustice.”

Speaking sincerely, and blatantly throwing himself on Brackenreid’s mercy, Murdoch told him what he wanted to do at Station No. 8.  Brackenreid’s jaw immediately clenched, but as Murdoch explained the principles of the QDE process, he began to get interested and his features softened.  When Murdoch pulled several reports at random from the inspector’s desk, pointed out the differences in his signatures and how those differences could be used to detect forgeries, Brackenreid became thoughtful.

“The only way I can see this happening,” he announced, “is if I accompany you to station eight.  Detective Conroy will have to listen to a superior officer.  You’re positive this QED stuff will work on the evidence they’re got?”

“That’s an excellent idea, Sir,” Murdoch said. “I’m positive Mr. Donaldson is innocent, so the QDE process will absolutely work.”

“It had better, Murdoch.”

By the time they arrived at Station No. 8, Murdoch was nearly hyperventilating.  Either he was about to vindicate the judge, reveal that the evidence had been stolen and not returned, or be shown the door with his tail between his legs.  To his immense relief, not only did Conroy listen to Brackenreid’s version of how the QDE tests worked, he agreed to let Murdoch perform the tests on the evidence.  When a constable appeared with the familiar envelope, Murdoch almost had to sit down, and if they were anywhere other than Conroy’s office, he would have.

He went through the demonstration again, first on Conroy’s own signature, then on the signatures purportedly belonging to Donaldson.  Murdoch didn’t have to get as technical as he was prepared to be; as soon as Conroy understood the theory, he joined in the examination.  Several times he muttered to himself, and Murdoch suspected he would have been swearing aloud if Brackenreid had not been present.  The unavoidable conclusion that Donaldson had been framed was the last thing he wanted to admit.

“All right, you’ve made your point,” he conceded. “I’ll present your findings to the judge hearing his case.  This doesn’t alter the other charge, mind you.”

“And Malone?” Murdoch asked. “I’ve done some research on the man and his organization -”

“So have I.  We haven’t found any trace of him attempting to bribe any other judges.”

This was where it became tricky. “You said that the judge replacing Mr. Donaldson is named Mitchell, did you not?  What do we know about him?”

“He’s gone on the record against Malone.”

“What sort of record does he have in relation to Kevin Callahan?”

“None that I know of.  Why do you ask?”

“My sources say that Mr. Mitchell is in Callahan’s pocket, as I believe the saying goes.” Murdoch was mentally holding his breath as he spoke, but from the odd look Conroy was giving him, he knew he was on the right track. “I suspect that it was Callahan who attempted to frame Mr. Donaldson in order to place Mr. Mitchell on the bench for Malone’s trial.  I’ve been told that Callahan owns a printing shop, so it wouldn’t have been difficult for him to print the fake checks.”

Brackenreid cast him a quizzical glance too before turning to the other detective. “We can look into that, can’t we?”

“Yes.  You might be on to something there,” Conroy said. “It was Mr. Mitchell who ordered us not to bring Malone in on bribery charges.  Malone is lying low, so he must know about them, but that’s left Callahan free to move in on his territory.  It’s all getting very complicated.” He signaled to one of his constables to come into his office. “I’ll see what more I can find out about Mitchell and Callahan.  Will you be back?”

“I don’t expect to be.” Murdoch shook his hand. “Thank you, Detective Conroy.  I apologize for being a nuisance.”

Conroy didn’t deny it.  As Murdoch and Brackenreid left his office, he was telling the constable what information he wanted regarding their new suspects.

It wasn’t till they were back at Station No. 4 that the inspector remarked on Murdoch’s deductions.  He paused at the door to Murdoch’s office and eyed him for a moment.

“Good work,” he finally said. “An innocent man has been cleared, and Conroy has new leads to pursue.  So why do I feel like I’ve been played?”

“I wouldn’t know, Sir.” Murdoch willed himself not to blush.

It didn’t take long to write up his report to be sent over to Station No. 8, leaving him time to either finalize reports on other cases or delegate the paperwork to Crabtree.  Before Murdoch knew it, lunchtime had come and gone, and evidently Conroy had moved rapidly: around two o’clock there was a mild ruckus in the main room, and Fiona hurried into his office unescorted.  When Murdoch stood up to greet her, she gave him a spontaneous and unrestrained hug.

“Detective, thank you so much!” She was beaming. “Mr. Donaldson sent me a note telling me what you did.  He thinks they might let him out on bail now.”

“That’s wonderful,” Murdoch agreed, very aware of every constable at the station watching them through his office windows. “I’m very glad I could help.”

“I’m going to visit him right now.  I’m sure he’ll want me to pass his thanks along to you.”

“It’s you he should be thanking.  Without your intervention, I would never have known of his situation.” He gave her a small smile, unwilling to mislead their audience but quite pleased that said intervention was over.

When Fiona left as briskly as she’d arrived, Murdoch decided to take a break and visit Julia.  There were many things he needed to discuss with her, not the least of which was his imaginary affair with the maid.  He grabbed his hat and headed for the door, flagging down Crabtree as he passed and handing him his report on Donaldson’s case.

“George, this needs to go to station eight,” he said as they exited the building together. “The same place Miss Moretti is heading, in case you’re interested in catching up with her.”

Crabtree grinned. “I wouldn’t mind a quick visit with the young lady, Sir, since she seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood today.  Do you know which way -”

His words were cut short by the crack of a gunshot, and a piece of the brick wall behind them shattered.  Murdoch and Crabtree hit the ground at the same time, while passers-by scattered in every direction.  A few seconds later there was a second shot, followed by a third with a distinctly different sound to it.  After that there was silence other than the tromp of boots as every officer in the station converged on the doorway and the cries of other people coming to see what had occurred.

“George?  Are you all right?” Murdoch asked, looking up and around.  The shots had come from across the street, but there was no one to be seen now.  As he got to his feet, a half a dozen constables rushed past him to investigate the area. 

Crabtree sat up and held out the envelope holding the report, which had an obvious hole through it.  He sounded a bit flustered. “I’m not hurt, Sir, although you might need to retype this.”

Murdoch pulled him upright, then turned to examine the damage to the wall.  The bullet had drilled deep enough to require some sort of tool to remove it.  He was about to ask Crabtree to fetch a pair of pliers, when it occurred to him that perhaps they should remove themselves first, rather than remain a target outdoors.  He had no reason to believe the shot was intended for Crabtree, but he couldn’t take that chance.

“Sir,” the constable said as they hurried into the station, “the oddest thing.  I saw someone running from the scene right after the third shot.  He was carrying a rifle and I could swear it was that reporter chap who was here asking questions about you the other day.”

“Do you recall his name?  Or which newspaper he was writing for?”

“I’m not sure he ever said, now that you mention it.”

Murdoch was going to delve further into that coincidence, but every officer not scouring the street for the gunman now gathered around him and Crabtree, most talking at once.  It took Brackenreid to disperse the crowd, after which he led them into his office.  Taking one look at Crabtree, he poured him two fingers of scotch.  He offered the same to Murdoch, but when the latter shook his head, he simply drank it himself, looking as rattled as his constable was.

“That was too bloody close,” he finally stated. “Taking a potshot at a police station?  The fellow must have a death wish.” 

At that moment Constable Higgins came running in. “We’ve found him, Sir!” he called. “On the roof of the stable.  He’s dead.”

“What did I tell you?” Brackenreid muttered.  Aloud he asked, “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” Higgins admitted, catching his breath. “He was dead when we got there.  Shot.  We’ve sent for Dr. Ogden.”

“Sir -” Murdoch began.

Brackenreid waved him off. “Go.  Update me as soon as possible.”

Both Murdoch and Crabtree headed for the roof of the building across the street.  There, surrounded by constables, they found Julia already kneeling to study the body of a young sandy-haired man.  He’d been shot in the throat and obviously died at once.  A rifle lay beside him with two spent casings.

“William, are you all right?” Julia exclaimed when he made his way to the center of the crowd.

“Yes, neither George nor I were hit.” Murdoch started to cross himself at the sight of the body, but froze in mid-gesture as he recognized the man.  The last time Murdoch had seen him was in the alley with Callahan. “Is there any sort of identification on him?”

One of the other officers held out a wallet. “His name is Sean Murphy.”

“Sir, I don’t understand,” Crabtree interrupted Murdoch’s dark train of thought. “Who shot him?”

“Judging by the angle of the bullet hole, I’d say he was shot from ground level,” Julia offered.  She was poking at the wound with a pair of tweezers. “I won’t know more till he’s on my table.”

She rose to direct the removal of the corpse, thereby missing the look exchanged between Murdoch and Crabtree.  They lingered while the rest of the group disappeared down the stairs.

“Why would a reporter shoot a would-be assassin?” Crabtree wondered.  They were near the edge of the roof, and he indicated the spot below from which he’d seen the man fleeing.  It would have allowed a clean shot at Murphy, assuming someone were in place and knew what was to occur.

“I haven’t heard of a recent story about me in any paper,” Murdoch replied. “Can you describe the man?”

“He was about my height, rather long brown hair, Irish accent -”

“George, come with me.”

They were able to locate one more shell on street level, tucked in between two buildings.  There were also a half dozen cigarette butts nearby.  A scenario had begun to form in Murdoch’s mind, and he could tell that his companion was also putting two and two together.  Since when doing so Crabtree had a tendency to arrive at seven, Murdoch quickly ushered him back into the station.

In Brackenreid’s office, he explained what he suspected, smoothly omitting certain parts.

“My investigation into the bribery charge against Mr. Donaldson led Detective Conroy to suspect Kevin Callahan.  I believe we’ll discover that the man on the roof worked for him.  Somehow Callahan got word that I’d fingered him, and he sent Murphy to wait there till I appeared, in order to kill me.  Meanwhile, Rory Malone had a man watching me, pretending to be a reporter.  He somehow found out about Callahan’s plan, and fortunately for Constable Crabtree and me, he was the better shot.”

Brackenreid appeared undecided whether to frown or gape. “You figured out all that based on a body and a few shells?”

“And my previous research about Malone and Callahan.” Murdoch glanced at Crabtree who looked both impressed and confused. “I’m confident that  Dr. Ogden’s examination will support my theory.”

“Couldn’t it be the other way around?” Crabtree asked suddenly. “The reporter could just as easily be Callahan’s man and the shooter Malone’s.”

Murdoch didn’t want to consider that. “Malone was cleared of the bribery charge due to my conclusions; I have no reason to think he’d wish me dead.  It’s Callahan who is now under suspicion and therefore might bear me some ill feeling.”

“Ill feeling,” Brackenreid echoed. “Right.” He shooed them out of his office. “Type up your statement before you leave tomorrow, Murdoch.  Once Dr. Ogden’s report is done, I’ll head the investigation.  You’ll be well out of it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

After re-writing his report on the Donaldson case, Murdoch again sent it to Station No. 8; his original report had to remain on hand as evidence in the shooting.  Since it was nearly dinner time by then, he went over to the morgue in hopes Julia was nearly ready to head out.  In fact, she’d finished her preliminary autopsy and was on her way to see him.  They met in the hallway outside her lab, where she was just pinning her hat into place.

“William.  Did you wish to see the body?” she asked.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he said, assisting her with her coat. “It’s the inspector’s case now.  Would you like to join us for dinner at the house?  There is so much I need to tell you.”

 “About the shooting?  Or about your affair with the maid?” Her smile widened at his expression, and he was relieved to see no hint of anything but mirth in her eyes. “George filled me in.  He said you might be too preoccupied to mention it, and apparently he was right.  I’d be delighted to join you for dinner.  I can hardly wait to hear everything that’s been happening.”

Murdoch escorted her towards a carriage with a bow, wondering where to begin.

 _*_ **** 

For the first time since he was a child, Murdoch felt like he was having a proper family dinner.  Julia and Lisette got along splendidly once the former recovered from her astonishment over the girl’s introduction into their lives.  Linney was in a marvelous mood, happy at last to have train tickets home.  Pendrick had received a telegram from his cousin saying she’d be delighted to see him again, as well as to take charge of Lisette.  In fact, the only disturbing moment during the meal was when a note arrived for Murdoch, hand-delivered by a young boy who vanished up the drive as soon as Murdoch gave him a penny.

The note simply said, ‘I told you KC couldn’t be trusted.  Consider us even now.  RM’.

Murdoch slipped the paper into his inside pocket.  Later, once he’d given Pendrick an expurgated version of that day’s events, he vowed to destroy it. 

After dinner, they went to sit on the terrace under the stars.  Before long Pendrick invited Julia to accompany him for a walk, and Murdoch could see him pointing out where his workshop was going to be built.  Murdoch was considering joining them when Linney drew his attention.

“You are a very lucky man,” he remarked, also eyeing Julia. “It’s a rare woman who would remain close friends with someone with whom she was once romantically involved.  The fact that she is friends with James as well is remarkable.”

Murdoch whole-heartedly agreed. “Julia is nothing if not that.”

“You used to court Julia?” Lisette asked.  She’d been so quiet, he’d forgotten she was there.                

“Yes, several years ago,” he said, reviewing his and Linney’s words.  Satisfied they’d given nothing away, he added. “We care for each other, but we realized we weren’t suited.”

“Because of Mr. Pendrick?”

“Both Julia and I knew Mr. Pendrick while we were courting.  He wasn’t the reason for our separation.”

Lisette watched the couple in question for a few moments. “But you and Mr. Pendrick are courting now, aren’t you?”

Linney spoke up when Murdoch was at a loss. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that Mr. Pendrick talks about Mr. Murdoch the way my mother used to talk about him.” Lisette shrugged a little. “But without the sadness.”

Since Murdoch wasn’t going to find words anytime soon, Linney stood up and reached for Lisette’s hand, gently urging her back into the house with him.

“What do you know about courting?” he asked as he closed the door behind them.  Murdoch appreciated his brother’s intervention, and he had to hope that Lisette was mature enough not to misconstrue his method.

“Where are the others?” Pendrick asked shortly thereafter as he and Julia resumed their seats. “Have they retired already?  It’s not that late.”

“Eleven,” Murdoch stated.

The other pulled out his pocket watch. “No, it’s just after nine o’clock.”

“Eleven people hold our future in their hands.” It occurred to him that Fiona might well have told Mr. Donaldson too. “Possibly twelve.”

Pendrick sighed. “Perhaps it _is_ late.  Julia, may I drive you home?”

Julia looked puzzled, but she was ready to go.  Murdoch saw her to the door, brushing aside his concerns to clasp her hand warmly.  She now knew enough of the situation with Malone and Callahan to help with her further examination of the body, and enough about Harry to know they’d be out of town for a while.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes, I have some work to wrap up.  I’ll come to say good-bye.”

Once they’d gone Murdoch turned to see Linney and Lisette coming out of the ballroom.  The young lady gave him a small smile, the Mountie a satisfied nod.  Bemused, Murdoch followed them upstairs, turning off lights as he went.  Inside his bedroom he pulled out the note from Malone, deciding how to approach what was bound to be a difficult dialogue.

He was in bed with the lamp still lit when Pendrick got home.

“Are we going to discuss the meaning of ‘discretion’ again?” the latter asked warily as he undressed.

“No, although you should know that Lisette is now in our confidence.” Murdoch paused. “Will you discreetly ask her not to say anything to your cousin?”

“I will.” Pendrick paused beside the bed, his mouth tight. “Are we going to discuss the meaning of ‘full disclosure’?  For instance, were I to be shot at, would you expect me to make a point of mentioning it to you as soon as possible?”

“Julia told you.”

“She assumed you already had.”

Murdoch sat up straight, because he could tell that his partner was truly angry.  He’d forgotten how hard the man’s eyes could become. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t see any reason to alarm Lisette or Jasper, and I didn’t have a chance to be alone with you.  It’s over, James.  Neither George nor I were hurt, the shooter is dead, and… there’s this.”

He held out the note.  After reading it with a marked crease to his brow, Pendrick handed it back.

“You think that’s the end of it?  You trust Malone?”

“To a point.  He’s an outlaw, but his fight is with Callahan, not me.  By the time we get back, all of this will have blown over.”

“If it hasn’t, we will be having this conversation again.”

“Yes, we will, I promise.” Murdoch met his eyes then deliberately struck a match and let the note burn to ash in the small dish he’d brought upstairs for that purpose.  As it disintegrated, so did the tension in Pendrick’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to withhold information.”

At last Pendrick lay down beside him and placed one warm hand on Murdoch’s chest.  He gazed at Murdoch for a while, then reached across him to turn out the lamp.

“Am I forgiven?” Murdoch asked.

“Of course.  This just brought home to me how dangerous your work is.  I don’t like to think about the possibility of losing you.” Pendrick trailed his fingers casually along Murdoch’s skin, almost tickling.  He didn’t sound at all sleepy, so Murdoch assumed his adrenalin was still pumping, as was his own.  Pendrick proved him right a moment later. “Speaking of lost time, have you realized that we’re going to be on a train for several days and nights?  No bed, no privacy, no touching.  It’s going to be a very long journey.”

“You’re saying we’d better do some touching now?” Murdoch murmured, turning to face him.   

“At least four nights’ worth,” Pendrick agreed. “Maybe more.”

His stroke changed, making Murdoch shiver. “True, because we’re also going to be on a train four more days coming back, and we don’t know how much touching we’ll have a chance to do while we’re in Vancouver.” Murdoch’s breathing was growing a bit erratic thanks to Pendrick’s skilled hand. “I don’t think Inspector Brackenreid will mind if I come in late tomorrow.”

“Will he mind if you can’t walk straight?”

Nearly swallowing his tongue, Murdoch opted to stop talking and start helping Pendrick achieve his goal.

***** 

When Murdoch finally arrived at the station next day, Detective Conroy was waiting for him amidst a cluster of constables regaling him with the story of the previous day’s excitement.  He raised his eyebrows curiously when Murdoch pulled him away.

“It seems you were on the right track,” he said once they were enclosed in Murdoch’s office.  Conroy gave the room a once over, apparently unimpressed by its cleanliness. “I’ve got men watching Callahan; if he has contact with Mitchell or any other judge, we’ll know about it.  A quiet word in the right ear has resulted in Mitchell being transferred to a different trial.  The new judge hearing Malone’s case has never presided in Toronto before.”

“It sounds like Malone will get a fair trial then.”

“Yes, whether he deserves it or not.  I’ve also got my eye on some of the men at my station.  Callahan should not have been able to find out so quickly what you discovered regarding the evidence.  Someone inside must have informed him.”

Murdoch had wondered about that. “And Mr. Donaldson?”

Now Conroy bared his teeth so that they gleamed through his beard. “Miss Moretti came by the station again.  Now I see why you were so persistent.  She’s quite forward, isn’t she?” He apparently didn’t consider that a bad thing. “Donaldson had his hearing this morning, and he’s a free man.”

“Free of the bribery charge, you mean.”

“And the other.” The detective shrugged. “I presented all the evidence along with your findings, and the judge dismissed everything.  He said that if the papers related to the bribery charge could be forged, so could the letters.  Without them, there was no charge against Donaldson.  Who, by the way, has decided to retire now rather than wait four months.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Murdoch said, hearing between the lines.  Donaldson had made the right, and only, choice. “Miss Moretti must be thrilled.”

“She left the station with him.  I imagine you’ll be celebrating with her this evening.” Conroy winked broadly and turned to go. “It’s been interesting, Detective Murdoch.  Let’s not do it again.”

“My sentiments exactly,” Murdoch agreed once he’d left.

By mid-afternoon he’d finished his work and said farewell to the constables, then stopped by Brackenreid’s office before leaving.  The inspector was perusing a pile of reports on the shooting, more than usual since every officer in the vicinity had to submit his version of events.  He looked up at Murdoch’s knock.

“You’re off then?”

“Yes, Sir.  I’ll send word when I know of my return date.  It will depend on Harry, of course.”

“I think we can manage without you for a week or two.”

“Have there been any developments in the case?”

“It’s been confirmed that the shell in the alley was from the same type of bullet that killed Murphy, and it turns out Murphy is a known associate of Callahan, so it seems your theory was correct.” Brackenreid frowned as if he still couldn’t believe Murdoch had solved the crime within minutes of its occurrence.  Since the man really wasn’t a fool, Murdoch put on his hat as a hint that he needed to go. “We’re trying to find that fellow masquerading as a reporter.  Have you any idea why he would have been asking questions about you the other day?”

“No, Sir, I don’t.”

“Go on then.”

Murdoch’s next visit was to the morgue, where Julia was working on a new cadaver.  Murdoch stood back while she washed up, then they went to sit at her work table.

“I’d like to apologize for the abrupt ending to our evening,” Murdoch began quietly. “I’m having difficulty reconciling myself to the number of people who know about my relationship with James.”

“So I gathered,” Julia said readily. “James explained your cryptic comment during the drive home.  To be honest, between us we couldn’t arrive at eleven names, much less twelve.” She laughed softly. “Goodness, William, who have you been telling?”

“I haven’t…” Murdoch accepted her teasing, glad she was able to treat the subject lightly.  He lowered his voice still more. “I never expected to be in a position like this, having to lie about my life.”

Julia sobered up at once. “Of course not.  Lying goes against your nature.”

“Which is why I’m confused, because my nature is also to love James.”

“It’s not you that’s confused, it’s society.” She squeezed his hand briefly. “You’re right to be cautious, but the more people who know, the more people who accept you and James, the less you’re living a lie.  I’m glad you have a circle of friends from whom you don’t have to hide.”

Murdoch was touched enough to blush. “As am I.  I’m also glad, Julia, that you’re among them.”

She hesitated, her large eyes shining. “Try to forgive your father, won’t you?  He’s paid for his past by losing contact with his children for decades.  You may regret it someday if you don’t.”

“That’s exactly what my priest said,” Murdoch told her. “I’ll try.”

“And you’ll send me one of those picture postcards from Vancouver?”

“Absolutely.”

He was glad to get home a couple of hours before his usual time.  Although he’d hidden his fatigue at the station, as well as a slight soreness he wasn’t about to explain, he was looking forward to an early dinner and an early night.  Their train was scheduled to leave shortly after dawn next day, and he had yet to pack.

He found Pendrick in the library with two strangers, workmen judging by their clothing.  His partner was showing them one of his plans and gesturing to the far wall while they nodded and took notes.  Murdoch went upstairs without being seen, suddenly suspecting what Pendrick had up his sleeve.

When the latter walked into their bedroom a half an hour later, the sight of Murdoch calmly packing their travel gear made him start.  He glanced downstairs nervously. “When did you get home?  I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I know, you were too busy plotting,” Murdoch said.

“Plotting?”

“How to enlarge the library to fit two desks.”

Pendrick grinned. “How long have you known?”

“Not till today.  Do you trust the carpenters to tear down a whole wall while we’re gone?”

“I’ve asked my solicitor to come by and check their work.  We can wait to have it painted till we get back.” He sat down on the bed, shoving aside the shirts Murdoch had neatly folded. “I hoped to surprise you.  Sometimes living with a detective can be frustrating.”

Murdoch faced him. “So can living with a wealthy, stubborn man.  You don’t need to remodel your house for me.” He tried to sound severe, but the tenderness on the other’s face made that impossible. “James, I don’t need anything but you.”

“Believe me, I’m remodeling the library for me,” Pendrick said, rising to embrace him. “Didn’t I tell you?  I’m thinking of building a second contraption, even larger than the first, and it will need space.”

“Larger?” Murdoch echoed.  He felt his lover begin to sway as if to music in his head, and he had no trouble matching the slow rhythm. “You could build it outside, near your workshop.  Inventors would come from far and wide to see it.”

Pendrick’s smooth motion halted for an instant, then resumed. “That is an excellent idea, my dear,” he said with real enthusiasm in his voice. “I’ll have to build it on a cement base,  use materials that can withstand the weather…”

Murdoch smiled and rested his head on Pendrick’s shoulder, certain that by the time they got home from their trip the man would have drawn up plans for a massive version of his contraption.  Between that, the expanded library, and their growing family, everything about their life together was only becoming bigger and better.


End file.
